Just Breathe

I seem to have a problem breathing.

Not ordinary breathing, when on dry land where I was created to be. No problem there, thank goodness. But in the water? Breathing without anxiety, gracefully and rhythmically, while crawling or breast-stroking through it – panic rises, my strokes falter and I gasp and choke for air.

I was full of enthusiasm, thinking that perhaps I was more relaxed in the water now than I used to be. I’ve been enjoying a weekly swim with my neighbour in our new local swimming pool. I signed up for lessons for improvers. I was eager to discover that my childhood clumsiness with swimming was over and that now, confident and secure, I would glide without effort in a graceful crawl or rhythmic breast stroke.

It is not to be. Don consoled me, noting that though he’d love to play the bagpipes, he’s just not musical and can’t hear the rhythm, can’t hear the beat. I’m not a swimmer. I can swim, and I still am going once a week, but I am never going to be a swimmer.

The Bible describes the church as the body of Christ. Some are created as Jesus’ mouthpiece, good at preaching or teaching. Others are Jesus’ hands, great at helping. Others are Jesus’ feet, going out and sharing the gospel. None of us can be everything.

Jesus loves me as I am.

So, no Olympic gold for me. Not for swimming, anyway.