Drown Proofing a Pandemic

 I am a swimmer.  And oh how I'm missing my early morning swims at the pool these past months!  

Honestly, it's been almost a year since I set foot in the building, except once to just chat at the front desk about how to put my membership on hold until I feel safe to interact in the gym/pool environment.  By now I'm longing for the quiet pull of my arms through the water, the rhythmic breathing on every fourth stroke, and the overall flood of endorphins when I climb out and towel off.

I feel safe and strong in the water, my swimming confidence the result of summer childhoods by the lake and Red Cross instruction at camp every July.  One skill required to advance to the next level (can't remember which by now) was the rather bluntly named 'drown-proofing.

The imagined scenario is that you are in over your head and for some reason are not close to shore or any other object to hold on to, AND you're tired.  Drown-proofing teaches you how to rest in the water.  You literally stop swimming and, holding your body in a certain posture, face down arms and legs spread, you allow yourself 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3, Mississippi, 4 Mississipi.... and longer as you get better at this, before you bring your face up out of the water, take a long slow breath, and do it again.

I remember really not liking it at first.  Wait?  I'm tired in the water, and I have to put my face IN the water?  I remember having a hard time resting while holding my breath, and coming up too soon in a gasp.  But after a while, with good coaching from the swimming instructor, I actually ended up enjoying it, finding it oh so quiet and peaceful in those moments of Mississipi counting, held up by the water itself.

We were not allowed to advance to the next level of swimming until we could do this perfectly.  It was essential, we were told, to have this skill if we were going to have any long confidence in our swimming ability.  It could save our lives, they said.

In a way, I feel like we all need this skill right now.

For this idea, I need to acknowledge Gail Patterson, mental health therapist at Joseph Brant Hospital, and her comments at a mental health webinar I attended Saturday morning through Anchor Ministerial Fellowship where I hold my credentials.  

In her talk she suggested that the pandemic has us all in over our depth, treading furiously just to keep our heads above the water.  All the pressing realities force us into skill sets we never knew we needed; navigating technologies, schooling our children, working from home, caring for elderly parents, leading and loving our communities of faith, grocery shopping, banking, you name it.  We're all on a learning curve and a coping curve and an anxiety curve that has us all exhausted.  And all without the normal supports - sort of like things we might grab hold of in the water - to keep us buoyed up and enjoying the swim.

Drown-proofing.  Resting in the midst of this.  Refusing to thrash about in an energy-wasting panic, but instead, floating face down with confidence, ready to swim again...in just a moment.  Stopping to look out the window.  Standing up for a good stretch.  Going for a walk around the block.  Moving to my reading chair not to read but to sit and meditate on some gratitudes for a few minutes.  Making sure to protect my restorative time in a world where work/rest rhythms are all off.  

And letting myself be Held by Arms that do not become fatigued.

Because the imagery of drown-proofing isn't quite complete without another memory from my swimming childhood.

I am maybe seven years old, swimming off the dock with my favourite cousin who was more like a brother.  A big brother, stronger and taller, who would put me on his shoulders and walk way out beyond the dock to where I am normally not allowed to be without a life jacket.  I love it up there.  I feel so safe, knowing his feet are on the bottom, allowing me to take the risk, push my fears just a little.  I trust him.  

There is a moment, though, where I realize just how much I trust him.  I am laughing and saying, "I could never touch bottom way out here."  And he takes one more step and says, "Neither can I!"

My mood rockets instantaneously from happy and fun to all out panic.  But just for the quickest of seconds, because all he does is step back, and we are all good.  And I am immediately in a space of joy and well being again.

This is such a long swim, my friends.  Some days it's like we're out in the middle of the lake and we can't even see a shoreline.  Whatever lets us count to 5 Mississippi, let's do it!  And may we ride with confidence, even joy, on the shoulders of a great big God who's feet are always solidly planted, no matter how far out we are.