Thursday, March 18, 2010

Learning to Let Go Part 1

Growing up as the youngest boy amongst my brother, relatives and neighborhood kids, I was forced to learn how to do things quickly or I'd be left behind. I didn't enjoy games such as tag/chase because I was the slowest (shorter legs, dont hate) and if I got tagged then it would most likely remain that way until someone felt sorry for me or I quit. If we played hide-n-seek, my survival depended on a good hiding spot because I couldn't rely on my speed to take me to the safety of base. There were many times when the game would be over and I would still be left in my hiding spot, punks...training wheels were not an option for me, those extra plastic wheels only slowed me down on my bicycle, therefore it was push and crash until I succeeded.

These events and circumstances early in life formed a lot of my personality that has carried into who I am now and why I do certain things. Competitive, self sufficient, hard on myself and wanting to come out on top. In some areas it has proved beneficial i.e. sports and academics but in other areas it can be a flaw.

I recall one summer day when I was around 8 or so that "trying to keep up" put me into a lot of danger. It was a family/friends outing to the one and only "beautiful" coast of Galveston TX...After being covered in sunscreen by a persistent mother I proceeded to follow the older boys into the water. Let me remind you that the gulf is not a transparent crystal blue water, but more an eerie brownish green infested with seaweed and jellyfish. However, I didn't have time to think about that. My mother warned me not to go out too deep, but I quickly ignored her and was off to the races fighting through the waves in order to stay with the rowdy crowd.

After body surfing in the waves for a bit, the older stronger boys decided to make a swim for the second sand bar. One by one they went further and further until I could only see them bobbing up and down with the waves as they made a swim for their destination. I look around, notice that I was the only one left and had two choices: stay in the shallows all by myself or make a mad swim with everyone else. So I begin to inch myself deeper and deeper, bouncing up and down with the waves, still at a place where I could stand with my head above water. Pretty soon though, the receding tide was pulling me against my will, I am drifting now, deeper and deeper. I start swimming now, discover my undeveloped arms are no match for the crashing waves. I am taken further and further away from the shore and now I begin to panic as I frantically struggle in the grips of an undertow. I scream for help towards the older boys but my cries are only drowned out by the waves and salty water filling my mouth. My survival skills kick in and I use all my energy to keep my head from going under, the harder I fought, the further I went out. Exhausted, many different thoughts start going through my mind and I begin to believe...this is it, gone in the murky waters of galveston. Seriously, I decided to just stop fighting, took a deep breath, went under water and went limp. I remember praying, God if you're listening and watching, I need your help. I am helpless and cannot do this on my own...

1 Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.

2 I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.

3 I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,
looking for my God.

Submerged, I was being tossed to and fro with the waves and current. I had no idea where I was in reference to the shore anymore, I was at the mercy of the sea. As my lungs begin to hurt, I get this feeling inside saying come up once more. I push off the bottom, break through the surface and fill my lungs with much needed oxygen. But to my surprise I wasn't fighting the current anymore, I was standing on solid ground, water up to my chest. Alive.

Building Character Part 2

...I apologize for not finishing sooner (and if you have no clue what I'm talking about you probably shouldn't continue reading this until you finish part 1, I'm just saying). The irony, however, is the connection between what happened 20 years ago on the beach to what prompted me to even tell that crazy story took much longer, hurt much more than the week I've left you hanging....so I withdraw my apology.

So obviously my life was spared, I didn't get dragged out to sea, didn't meet Ariel...even though that would have been tight... and I'm not using the Apostle Paul's keyboard in Heaven finishing this blog. I'm in Colorado, worked hard for the past two days without much sleep and now relaxing in a hotel room in the middle of no where praying I don't get bed bugs. I'm tired and this may not make much sense but I'll give it a shot... so hang with me and hopefully it will all come together in the end.

Life didn't slow down, it continued. I got older but my ways of thinking/behaving were already deeply ingrained and established. In fact, I read that 85% of your personality is formed between the ages of 2-6 so I guess it will take more than a drowning scare to change how I was already being shaped (not to mention I'm stubborn as well ;). Anyways with that said, even though I grew taller and faster as I adjusted to an embarrassing squeaky voice, side note: that's just an awkward time of life as it is, my performance driven attitude was already being solidified. I succeeded in school; I worked hard in athletics and won starting positions each year in the prestigious game of Texas football; I became very competitive, never wanting to fail. There was always more to attain, more room for improvement, something else to try. If I performed below my standards I would quickly adapt in order to not make the same mistake again. My life was driven by constant analysis of performance and results, finishing ahead always the priority.

For example, I remember my first semester at Baylor.
ahhhh the life of a freshman as we perceive. Finally I wasn't governed by parents, sports and doing well in school to get into a good college, I just wanted to kick back and enjoy the freedom of being an adolescent out on my own, girls and partying were at the focus. I only wanted to study enough and do well enough to keep my scholarship which was maintaining a 3.2 gpa. However, when grades came back at the end of the semester I made a 3.9!?! Most would be happy with this and I was, but due to my insanity, now I knew what I was capable of making. The bar was set. So therefore the rest of what was suppose to be the "good life" would be offset by studying to maintain or improve my 3.9, but that's another story....

I tell all of this for a reason, not to boast by any means but hoping to paint a small picture. To bring up memories, a mold, the route I traveled, who I am, why I made the choices I made, for better or worse. Because without the smallest idea of the author, then me explaining this next event will only be words on a screen to you. It will be lifeless and only a simple reading, but to me it was much more, it was real. It was life, my life crashing against something out of my control. For those who know me, you probably know exactly what I am getting to...a storm, a sea, it blind sided me and caught me quick and I didn't know what to do....it's late, im tired. will finish later....