A Big Jump

and all the small steps along the way

When I signed my oldest son up for swim team the summer he was three, I had one goal: for him to become a confident swimmer. Sure, I wanted him to have a similar experience to the fun I’d had on summer swim team as a kid, and sure, I hoped he made some friends, and sure, it seemed like a good way to burn some energy, but the main goal was for him to learn how to swim.

That summer, I’d walk him over to the clerk of course when it was time for the six and unders to get lined up. When he was told which lane to go to, I’d walk him through the behind-the-blocks chaos to the correct spot. Then I’d wait with him until he got up on the blocks, cheering as he jumped off, splashing into the waiting arms of his favorite coach.

The second he touched the water, I’d scurry around the edge of the pool, dodging swimmers and parents, as I tried to beat him to the other end. I tried and pause to get a glimpse of his race if I could, but he wanted me there when he finished, so I did my best to get there first.

At the beginning of the summer, there wasn’t much actual swimming happening. His coach carried him to the fifteen-yard rope while he splashed and kicked, then he’d pass him off to a kid-catcher that would carry him the rest of the way to the wall. But every day, he got a little bit better: a little stronger, a little more confident, a little closer to actually swimming.

At one of the last meets that summer, the host pool did a Twinkie swim for the six and unders: if they could swim a full 25 yards by themselves, attempting butterfly, they’d get a Twinkie.

He lined up with the other kids–some of them almost twice his age!—and jumped right in. I walked along the edge of the pool as he struggled his way through the twenty-five yards, a nervous wreck the whole time. When he made it to the end and climbed out of the water, he was handed a Twinkie, and his smile stretched from ear to ear.

Last weekend, our family drove that same kid, who is now 12, to the airport. We met up with other swimmers and coaches—that we mostly didn’t know—and hugged him goodbye, trying not to let our anxiety show as he headed off for his first team travel trip, representing North Carolina Swimming in Texas at the Southern Open Water Zones.

After the team headed up the escalators toward the gate, out of our sight, my husband and I took our two younger boys over to the observation park to watch airplanes take off. I sat at a picnic table, scrolling through photos and videos of that first summer he was on the swim team.

I couldn’t quite compute. How did we get from that, to this?

It seemed like such a big jump—that first summer of swim team wasn’t really that long ago, was it?

Sending him off on that plane was a big step. But there were so many small steps along the way (though some of them felt huge at the time) that paved the way for him to go from that tiny 3-year-old swimmer to the 12-year-old ready to fly off with his team.

There was the first time I sent him over to the blocks at a swim meet by himself at a meet instead of going with him.

Dropping him off for the first day of school in kindergarten.

Biting my tongue when we were late because he wanted to tie his own shoes. Resisting the impulse to do something for him that he could do for himself.

The first summer he went to overnight camp, where I obsessively stalked the photos posted by camp, hoping for a glimpse of him (did I obsessively stalk the team’s Instagram during this trip? Yes, yes I did).

Teaching him how to make his own lunch; the first time he stayed home alone; dropping him off at swim practice instead of staying and watching; his first year-round swim meet, where he was down on the deck and we were far away in the stands (a big change from summer swim!).

Letting him try an open water swim meet. Saying “yes” to him doing an ocean open water swim.

Teaching him independence and responsibility and good sportsmanship in a million tiny moments. There have been so many conversations and reminders and learning experiences I don’t even remember anymore; small steps that added up to him being ready to do something big.

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This post is a part of the blog tour for Small Steps: Blessings to Lift Your Soul on the Pilgrimage of Life. Small Steps is a book of blessings meant to meet us in our daily lives, in all of the challenges and joys, struggles and triumphs. A few of the blessings include: For a Rough Morning, Listening to a Dream, Learning to Pray Again, and For an Ordinary Tuesday. Order your copy wherever books are sold. Small Steps releases May 5th!