Swimming pools

This is the season of swimming pools. The air is filled with the sound of splashing and shouts of joy. It’s also a time for adults to sit at the water’s edge and unwind. Whether dangling feet in the water, or sitting in a chair, staring out at the pool can allow our minds and hearts to wander and souls to breath. Pools have much to say. The clean, cool water is invitation enough to remember the need for refreshment, but there’s something more of which we need to take note. 

At one end the water is shallow, the other deep. I remember as a child walking from the shallow end into the deep, feeling the water rise above my bathing suit, up my chest, over my neck, lips, and eventually eyes and hair until I was completely submerged. It was at this point I had to begin swimming. My feet went from standing to kicking, my arms from relaxing to moving from side to side so my head stayed above the surface.

    Sitting by the water’s edge today, I see small children playing in the shallow end. It’s where they belong. Eventually they will long to swim in deeper water. Also in the shallow end are mothers standing and talking about things like last night’s party or a recent trip. Off to the side, two are engaged in what a friend refers to as “Christian evaluation,” a humorous description of gossip. Topics like whose marriage is struggling, who might have a drinking problem, are all fodder for such conversations and they are often done while holding what they feel is a well-deserved cocktail at the end of the day. It’s been years since they swam in the deep water.

Down at the other end, the people are actually swimming. There is far less chatter down there. Some are challenging themselves by going below the surface to dive for a coin or object resting below. Others are leaping from the diving board, trying to make the biggest plash or perfect dive.

The pool is an invitation to ask in which end of the pool we live? Do we live where our feet can touch the ground, where we are in control and secure? Do we stand still, perhaps talking to other shallow pool dwellers about shallow things? Do we stand where people can admire our new suit and our hair stays dry, neat, and tidy? 

Or do we dwell in deeper waters? Do we actually swim? Do we have the courage to let our feet leave the bottom? Are we willing to leave the surface in search of something below? Are we willing to hold our breath? Can we learn to make a big splash, or dive in a way that makes no splash at all? 

Or are we like those who long to swim in the deeper water, who might even venture into it for a brief moment before returning to where their feet can touch the ground. These are the ones who long to live lives of faith, to think and explore deep thoughts, but do nothing with them. They might pray or write about life in the deep water, but never really go there. They dwell in both the shallow and deep water, but live in neither. 

As we sit beside the pool this season, with time to think about things other than carpools, business responsibilities, or social obligations, the invitation to ask ourselves in which end of the pool we reside is splashing at our feet. How we answer is, of course, up to us.