As time passed, I grew more and more comfortable with reading about other's adventures in fiction rather than experiencing my own adventures. It was safer to live that way. There's no impending danger when you crack open a book. No chance you'll fall out of an airplane and land flat on the pavement, never to get back up again. No chance you'll vomit your guts onto that pavement either (a far greater fear for me than the first).
Being the Type A person I am, I knew I couldn't avoid skydiving forever. The idea of it grew scarier with time, but still, I had written it on my bucket list. It had to be checked off. Lucky for me, I married an adventure seeker. Before I could talk myself out of skydiving a second time, he had my skydiving adventure scheduled and paid for. You can't walk away from that.
I think my fear level the moment we pulled into the parking lot that day paralleled my fear level during the April 27, 2011 tornadoes. I wasn't surrounded by total chaos, but I just knew I was going to throw up. Yes, you read that correctly. My greatest fear wasn't dying. I'd run a marathon without properly training and listened to the potential death announcement that warned non-trained participants not to attempt such a brutal beast. It wasn't even getting injured that scared me. I could deal with that. Two ankle surgeries practically made me a pro at injury recovery. Vomiting, not so much. I'd rather die.
I begged Joel to let me back out, to let me just wait in the car for him to go. It didn't work. I was in the building signing a waiver before I could even process where my attempt to back out had gone wrong.
A man approached us, asking if I was afraid.
"Yes," I gulped.
He assured me that it was normal to be afraid. Most people were afraid to skydive on their first time. I assured him that I, unlike most people, was not afraid of anything but vomiting. He laughed at me and then convinced me that skydiving was nothing like the rides at amusement parks that make your stomach drop.
"Are you sure I'm not going to throw up?" I asked for the fifteenth time.
After he explained that his very pregnant wife had just recently gone skydiving, I was sure that I had nothing to worry about.
Heart racing, I suited up and walked outside with Joel. We took a picture to keep me from focusing on what was about to happen. Really, we took a picture because in this day and time, you haven't experienced anything until you post a picture of it on social media.
Getting on the plane is kind of a blur. I don't remember much until I was straddling a bench in front of a man I'd only just met. He was attaching himself to me. I had almost convinced myself that it wasn't going to be so bad until the plane door opened and we began inching our way towards the hole. The experienced skydivers jumped out the door and were just sucked into oblivion, or so it seemed. The only comfort I had in that moment was the man who was attached to Joel. For some reason, he was talking about Harry Potter, and I knew these men had to be trustworthy if they were Harry Potter fans.
When my partner and I sat at the edge, ready to fall out of the plane, I'm glad I didn't have time to look down. My partner simply rocked us back and forth three times and then we were tumbling through the air.
I thought skydiving would be a huge adrenaline rush, but it just hurt my ears. The good news is I didn't throw up, and my students think I'm either really cool or really crazy because I jumped out of a plane by choice.
Looking back on the skydiving experience, the thing that stands out to me the most is probably the insane amount of trust involved in tandem skydiving. I had never met the man who was attached to my back. Sure, we traded a few casual sentences and sure, he liked Harry Potter, but I put my whole life into his hands, trusting that he knew what he was doing with our parachute. Even though my biggest concern at the time was not throwing up, it still amazes me that I could sit there and trust a complete stranger.
I sometimes wonder why it was so much easier for me to trust a stranger with my life than it is for me to trust the God who is nearer to me than my very heart. In all honesty, my experience skydiving is what my faith should look like. Me and God, sitting at the edge of what is unknown to me but fully known to Him. I cannot look back because looking back leads to comfort and the avoidance of adventure. I cannot look down because I'm not meant to see the full picture. The full picture would be too great a burden, and I would cower in fear, never taking the leap of faith. I can only look straight ahead at the beauty that's right in front of me and thirst for the adventure that's ahead. And when He tells me that it's time to take the leap of faith, I don't have to do it on my own. I don't have to sit frozen in fear with my feet dangling over the edge of the adventure He has planned for me. I simply have to lean back and let Him rock me back and forth, trusting that His gentle nudge will lead me down the path I'm meant to go, and He will keep me safe and afloat all along the way.
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