First off, I don't blame you if at first sight of this entry's title, you found yourself humming *or for that matter full out karaoke-styling* that classic Tom Petty song. It's ok. I did it, too. In fact, as a kid, I remember singing it into the handle of my jump-rope once or twice... but that's a different blog. ;)
I can honestly say I've really never had the urge *or desire* to sky-dive--though I've had a lot of friends whom I've known over the years who paid out money for the experience. I'll be the first to admit that the pictures are cool--well, as long as you are self-confident enough to frame what your face would look like if you were a bug after meeting a car's windshield.
I do think it LOOKS exhilarating and I'm sure that it is a serious adrenaline rush... but it just really isn't... me. I LOVE big roller-coasters and the thrill of whipping around and upside-down as long as I can scream my head off and take on the 'most obnoxious passenger' role. I love cantering on a horse and the thrill of the wind whipping against my face as the horse seemingly glides across a field. So I wouldn't for even a second claim that I am prissy about adrenaline-rushes... I really do like them...
but I guess I'm not really driven by them, like some people.
I suppose the other piece to the sky-diving interest, or lack-thereof, might have to do with my past dreams of it. Enjoying the view as I'm free-falling out of the sky, and then just as I feel it's getting necessary to pull that cord I do so and... NOTHING.
You know that dream. I think we've all had at least one like it. I frantically keep trying to pull the cord and then realize... it's defective. I look back down and right before contact *body to ground* I jolt awake.
It's funny, I've been thinking for a while now about how everything feels so totally out of my control in my life, these days. All of you who've been faithfully following (I still can't figure out why, ha!) know I've written quite a few 'control' entries now... from different developmental stages, too... ie: panic, irritation, anger, acceptance. But something somewhat profound--or at least profound enough that I wanted to share it with you--hit me this past week.
Lincoln has been really developing his drawing skills, recently. Both boys have always loved drawing, and like everything else in our parenting with them, we try to help them gain understanding through things like that--ie: they draw a rectangle that looks more like a square, so we commend them but encourage them to see and draw it more accurately by explaining their differences--thus creating a good learning-moment from our fun. ;)
Anyway. Where was I. Oh yes.
So, Linc and I have been talking in his curriculum about directions--up, down, under, over, etc-- and lately, he has enjoyed drawing pictures of people *namely all of us* hanging from parachutes, because one of his activities had a picture like that for the example of 'under.' For about the past month or so now, if he draws a picture, you can very well bet that, even if it started out with cars and houses... somewhere in the sky will be a person dangling from a parachute. ;)
Ironic? VERY. Why?
Let's go back to my earlier topic.
Life for us, right now, feels like a sky-dive... truly. As soon as we received the diagnosis.. CANCER.. it was like someone held a gun to my head and said jump, or I'll shoot you. Not a great choice, either way... but obviously, the jump seems at least a bit more promising.
But here's what I am starting to understand...
I was forced into this fall. DEFINITELY forced.
Yet all along, I've been wearing that parachute. It's there.
I'm not gonna lie, when you're falling so fast, it is TOO EASY to focus on the ground that is getting closer and closer with every panicked breath. Even with the cord dangling right beside my right hand--periodically swinging into my palm even--I can't take my eyes, let alone my mind, off of the eminent moment, that body-ground contact. If that's not bad enough... then when I do remember the parachute, I all too easily get worried about it not opening or somehow slipping off of me when I do finally pull the cord!
But you and I know I'm wrong...
because my parachute is unlike any other parachute I could've chosen. It is not feasibly possible for Him to malfunction and in fact, He has promised me over and over and over again that when......IF I choose Him, He will never, ever abandon or fail me.
Does this make the face-mashing wind feel more like a gentle breeze right now? Not really.
Does this make the ground come at me any slower? Goodness, no.
Does this calm the adrenaline of the moments--the crazy head-spinning decisions? Honestly, usually not.
BUT... it does make one thing more calming and reassuring. That eminent impact--the body to ground contact--it's not how this ends cause He is strapped on and He will not and cannot be defective!
So I say to you all, especially in your times of testing--small or big--
close your eyes, take a deep breath,
PULL THE CORD
and just enjoy the view the rest of the way down~