Jacey Verdicchio - A Children's Author

When I was five, my mom worked on Saturdays so my sister and I spent the day with Dad. One Saturday, we went to Larkey Park to swim. It was a crowded summer day, and kids swarmed at the base of the diving board ladder. There were two diving boards - a standard one, and a high dive. I don't remember any of the words exchanged between my dad and I, but I do remember my emotions surrounding the event.

I had decided to jump from the high dive, so I nervously stepped in line. Most of the kids ahead of me knew each other and were twice my age, so I just waited my turn while they joked and talked. I hopped from foot to foot, turning around every so often to see if my dad and sister were still watching me. They were.

A few kids ahead of me, a young boy climbed the steps, and came back down. So did the next one. I don't remember how many kids walked to the top, peered over the edge and came back, but I do remember each step as I climbed to the top. I knew my dad and sister were watching as I stepped closer and closer to the edge. Before I knew it, I was swimming to the ladder. The step off the edge wasn't nearly as scary as all the steps up to the top. Once I made that choice, gravity did all the work.

Why did I do it when people bigger, stronger, and surrounded by their peers chickened out? The value system I had learned was to negate fears. My parents had taught me from the Bible that God did not give me a spirit of fear, that God delivers me from all my fears. Knowing my dad was watching gave me a reason to follow through. I knew he would be proud of me for overcoming that fear, and that was reason enough to go through with it.

A few years later, a similar opportunity arose. I was the same age as the kids who had chickened out at Larkey Park, and I had the chance to jump off the giant rock at Camp Sierra into the dark water. My dad was there that time, too. I watched person after person jump successfully, but I left that day without jumping myself. What had changed?

As a five year old, I had only been affirmed. Nothing had been out of reach for me. I had never failed at anything. I believed that fear did not hold me captive. A few years later, I had learned to play it safe. On the high dive, I jumped before I could think. Somehow, as we get older, we learn to hesitate to avoid getting hurt. We learn to be rational. Being responsible can be a good cover for making decisions based on fear instead of possibility.  We look for a sure thing with all upside and no potential danger before we act.  The fear of "what if" becomes greater than the hope of "what IF."

I think about those events every so often because we have the chance to jump off the high dive as adults, too. Most of the time, there isn't someone watching, waiting to applaud. Unfortunately, we often aren't willing to take that plunge without the external push. Instead, we stay in the comfort of the shallow end where there's nothing at risk. Why? God still did not give us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. God still delivers from fear, whether or not anyone is watching.