Best swimming lesson I ever had

An Easter story:

It was shortly after the YMCA opened in Lecanto. Word got around that I couldn't swim.

Gerry Mulligan, then the Chronicle Publisher, co-led the community effort to raise over $8 million to build the Y. He was a fervent supporter and always looking for ways to promote it.

---

He put two-and-two together. The Y would teach me to swim, I’d be a swimming member of society, and the Chronicle would get a great story that inspires other water fraidy cats to take the plunge.

I was all for it. While all prior swimming lessons ended in failure, I was determined that wouldn’t be the case this time. I truly wanted to swim. Lived in Florida all this time, surrounded by water and not able to partake.

I met the instructor, Nick Dunn, and we started lessons. It seemed like I was going to get it. All those years of water fear…I could feel it disappearing with each float.

But it was clear after the third of fourth lessons that I struggled. I’m extremely uncoordinated and could not comfortably float on my back. It seemed we were at a stalemate.

One day, Nick and I were in the pool making small talk. The conversation came around to spiritual matters (it often does). Turns out, we both attended Seven Rivers Church. He asked if I was in a small group, and I told him no.

He told me about his men’s group that had met for years. He mentioned a few names I recognized. Community leaders. 

Nick didn’t need to sell me. I was in. When does the group meet?

Saturday, 8 a.m.

Gotta be kidding me.

I think I blurted out something along those lines with a grownup adjective or two. Eight on a Saturday MORNING? Who in their right mind gets up early on the weekend? Everyone knows Saturday doesn’t start until 10 a.m. Never, ever, EVER have I purposely started a Saturday before mid-morning.

But I really missed being in a small group of people for Bible study. So, I told Nick I’d meet him the following Saturday.

I dragged myself out of bed and arrived at the meeting. Nick introduced me; I recognized some of the fellows. Other than that, I don’t recall much of that first gathering. I think we were reading Daniel.

Well, I kept going back. Dragging myself out of Saturday morning slumber to share Jesus with these guys. I got to know them. They got to know me. They wanted me around anyway.

Now. If you’re unfamiliar with small groups, it’s not all pats on the back, blubbery hugs, intense prayer, or community services. It’s often quite truthful. Lovingly blunt. Group members hold one another accountable for their actions. We try to match our behavior with how it’s laid out in the Word.

During my darkest days, they encouraged and challenged me. They prayed with me and yelled at me. They told me not to give up. I've done the same for them.

Well, a year or two into the small group, and I'm almost comfortable with early rising on Saturday. That's when a 12-step friend told me of a group in Hernando County that meets every day at 8 a.m. Mornings! Again! This time, it’s an hour drive, so that means out the door by 7.

Those folks are now among my closest friends.

Nick was transferred to Pasco County three months after I joined the Seven Rivers small group. He’s living in Hawaii today with his wife and children.

I share this story often. What started as swimming lessons ended up changing the entire trajectory of my life. I no longer sleep until 10 a.m. on Saturdays or any other day. Instead, I awake with the dawn. Out the door for a Bunny walk at 6:30.

And then I spend an entire day participating in life. 

Spiritual growth is always on the move. I haven’t seen the guys in a while, and I miss them. I attend another spiritual outlet at the same time.

Like with many aspects of life, I’m fairly open here about my faith. My mind this week is focused on redemption, saving grace.

By the way, I failed Nick's instruction. Still can't swim. Turns out, I’m not buoyant. That’s OK, though. For the first time, I truly gave it my best shot.

In doing so I met a man who opened a door. My life is so enriched by that encounter, and I hope Nick realizes what he did for me.

Besides, God and I have already talked. Soon as I get home, I’m taking a joyous dip in the river. And I will feel that cool water rush over me. And I’ll laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

That’s my Easter story.

Just Wright Citrus is taking a 4-day holiday weekend. I’m a teeny weeny burned out from the recent sprinting. I’ll be good as new next week.

Until then, please have a joyous and safe Easter, friends.

Join the discussion on our Facebook page.

Enjoying the blog? Please consider supporting it at Venmo, PayPal, or Patreon.
​