I watched two children walk toward the water. It was a hot day at children's camp along the Frio River so they were not alone but they also stood out from the giggling, screaming, splashing throng going down to the river.
The girl had on pink flip flops that matched her pink bathing suit that matched the pink bow in her hair. Yes, a pink bow in her hair to go swimming. She stepped to a shallow spot in the pool and ever so gingerly placed one foot in the frigid water and quickly pulled it back. Then in a moment of great resolve stuck that foot back in the water and left it there and shuttered as she eased her other foot into the pool.
The girl had on pink flip flops that matched her pink bathing suit that matched the pink bow in her hair. Yes, a pink bow in her hair to go swimming. She stepped to a shallow spot in the pool and ever so gingerly placed one foot in the frigid water and quickly pulled it back. Then in a moment of great resolve stuck that foot back in the water and left it there and shuttered as she eased her other foot into the pool.
The boy walked past me as I stood watching the girl's precise, painful adjustment. His rumpled bathing suit seemed a bit too large for his scrawny, tan body. Perhaps it was a hand me down? It did not look like he had combed his hair that day. One pocket of his trunks was pulled inside out and bounced as he walked barefoot toward the deep end of the swimming hole.
Without breaking stride he stepped to the edge of the concrete platform and then off into the deepest water of the pool. His head soon came up and with a breath taking, "Haaaa" he expressed his sudden adjustment to the Frio's water. He swam over to a group of friends and began to splash and play with them.
Without breaking stride he stepped to the edge of the concrete platform and then off into the deepest water of the pool. His head soon came up and with a breath taking, "Haaaa" he expressed his sudden adjustment to the Frio's water. He swam over to a group of friends and began to splash and play with them.
I looked back over at the girl. She was now in thigh deep water, slowing, haltingly edging forward and deeper. She was stooped over a little with her arms wrapped around her chest like she was facing a January "norther." Her skin seemed to be turning more pale and the discomfort of adjustment was written on her face. I looked back at the boy. He had blended in to the thrashing throng that is a children's camp swim time.
Change. It always has some discomfort. It always requires adjustment. Perhaps it is better and easier to just dive right in. There are a lot of changes happening at Northside. This website and this blog are just a few. Its my hope that you will just dive right in and find that there are a lot of other people joining you and after a moment of adjustment, this all can be pretty enjoyable.
For the journey,
Tim
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