The waterslide of death and what it taught me about life

I'm a considerably fearful person. I've been that way for as long as I can remember. My dad is the one who taught me what to do about that fear, and I learned the hard way. My parents still laugh about it.

It was 20 years ago. I was a scrawny, stubborn little girl, and we were on a family vacation. The hotel we stayed in had a huge pool, and on the other side of a glass wall, they also had a huge waterslide. And I mean huge! There were twists and turns and ups and downs, and it was too tall to see the top from the pool room! It was a neat setup: swimmers didn't get splashed by sliders, sliders didn't immediately sink at the deep end. The drawback was that children had to be accompanied into the waterslide room, and my brother desperately wanted on that waterslide. As for me, there was no way on this earth that I was getting on that thing! That was just a foregone conclusion to me. I agreed to go with my parents and just watch my brother for a while, but that soon got pretty boring. I wanted back in the pool, and my brother wanted to keep sliding. My dad was also having a blast, so it was 2 against 1.

I started whining. Dad told me I should try the slide.

Nope. Nooo! No way Hosay!

Using some kind of adulty, malicious trickery, he managed to lure me up to the top of the slide. Being scared of heights as well, this was no mean feat.

Then he sprang his trap.

Suddenly I was wrestling a 200lb dad, determined not to succumb to gravity's unforgiving pull. He pushed, he pulled, he tickled, he wrangled, and I'm happy to say, I put up an admirable resistance. I braced myself against the railings and he no sooner peeled away five toes or five fingers, than I had them fastened tight again. Picture a cat resisting its carrier. Accompany that picture with shrieks and screams.

Then! We were off! whooshing through a tunnel, and spinning in circles, scooting up hills and bouncing downhill, and sweeping into an exhilarating glide in the homestretch. I was stunned into silence, and still a bit wobbly from that initial moment where my heart lurched into my throat, but...oh. That was quite nice, actually. I could maybe do that again. And maybe again. But only if dad comes too.

I completely and utterly hate being wrong, or looking stupid, but I have never forgotten that life lesson:

Sometimes, the fear won't leave you.

So do it anyway.

Sometimes, the fear protects you, and that's good, and how it should be; other times, the fear keeps you from living. It's holding me back right now, from so many things, and I'm still working up my courage to face it. But 99% of the life-changing experiences I've had so far wouldn't have happened if my dad had not been stronger and wiser and more stubborn than little girl me! I owe him a lot for that.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9b)

This verse has become something of a mantra over my life, and for good reason. I seem to need a continual reminder to keep pushing myself past the fear. And pushing, and pushing, and pushing!