I Jumped Off a Cliff...

Recently, while on my first ever kayak trip with two of my favorite friends in the whole wide world, who also happen to be family, I jumped off a cliff. Both figuratively and literally.

As we floated and paddled down the river, catching up on life's happenings, talk turned to things we did as kids. We spent alot of time laughing about how we learned to swim in a spot very similar to the river we were floating. As kids, we were literally thrown into the water and told to swim. This was Mississippi in the early 1970's.  The water was only 6-8 ft deep, and there were adults in the water to "save" us if needed, but when you're 8 years old, it was terrifying.

Reminiscing about our adventures when we were kids led to other moments that usually ended up with us in trouble. Looking back, the "trouble" was harmless and we had some good laughs. Then an innocent question about something in our childhoods led me to the first cliff jump, figuratively. Feeling a level of trust and acceptance I've never felt as an adult, for the first time ever, I took a deep breath and opened up about how my story started. It was one of the biggest steps I've ever taken and in that moment, I felt as if I had cast the first stone that would take down the evil giant that's overshadowed most of my life.

As we continued to float, we stopped at spot where a crystal clear creek flows into the river...the water had carved through the rocks and soapstone creating crystal clear pools of water at least 20 degrees colder than the river water. It was refreshing, and we lingered for awhile, simply listening to the water as it flowed. I watched the fresh, clean water turn brown as it entered the river and thought "Wow, this is like life. We start out innocent (crystal clear creek water) and sometimes are exposed to the 'real world' (muddy river water) before we can truly understand." I realized that while I was thoroughly enjoying myself, I was also starting to heal the scars of my childhood.

As we navigated through the cypress knees along our water route, I was entertained with a story of how my cousin jumped off a 25 foot tree that had fallen across a river on a recent kayak trip in Florida. Little did I know that we would come upon a 10 foot (don't judge) cliff and he would invoke our old childhood habit of daring me to jump into the river.

Now, as a 10 year old I didn't hesitate to jump off cliffs, storage shed roofs, or do flips off a bunk bed. I was fearless. But then life viciously invaded and I slowly started to lose my fearless and reckless spirit. Fast forward 40+ years and I found myself standing on a cliff, watching the muddy water flow past. As I stood there asking Jesus why I was even considering jumping into the water, giving every single excuse I could think of to not jump, while being both teased and encouraged, I was mesmerized by the water swirling in front of me. It seemed to taunt me...every 'You're too scared. You can't do this. You'll hurt yourself. You're too clumsy. You won't jump. You're not as badass as you think...and every other 'You're not' thought that had been constantly spoken and then repeated in my head throughout my life was running on double fast forward. I stood staring into the muddy water and asked myself "Why is something that brought me such joy and freedom when I was 10, so completely terrifying at 50 something?" I stood up straight, stepped back, took a breath, and promptly sat down with my feet dangling over the water. This paralyzing fear was new and I didn't know why or where it was coming from. Another couple of minutes passed while being encouraged (actually, it was good natured teasing about a walk of shame that would occur if I didn't follow through) and repeatedly being told the water was at least 15 feet deep, I pushed myself off.  I hit the water and it was over. I surfaced, and heard "See, it was fun. Don't you want to do it again?" Yes, ultimately, it was fun. No, I didn't want to jump again. I swam back to my kayak, and over the next hour reflected on what I released when I pushed away from that cliff. It was therapeutic in ways I can't describe.

When we started the trip that morning, I had no idea I would come face to face with my lifelong giants. I simply expected to spend the day catching up on our lives and reconnect with my southern roots. But somewhere along the way, I faced fears that developed in childhood, and had become a way of life, as well as some I wasn't even aware that had developed. I learned things about myself I didn't know. I pushed myself to accomplish something I've never done. I had never been in a kayak by myself before this trip. I had never been on this river before. I had no idea of the upper body strength needed to paddle 10 miles, not just on the river, where there's a current; but also across 6 massive lakes 50-60 ft deep with little current to help push you across. I had no idea how heavy a lightweight kayak feels 3/4 of the way through, when you have to pull it out of the water, up around a boat ramp and then down a sandy hill to put back into the water; just to avoid concrete pilings blocking the river under a bridge. I had no idea that this trip would end up being one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.

I am forever grateful for this trip and all it revealed. I'm even more grateful for the two people I was able to share it with. We spent the day relaxing, talking, and just being together. Those moments will stay with me forever. In addition to new memories that we created, I'm proud that I pushed through and not only completed the trip, but I did it without flipping.

All because I took a leap of faith and jumped off a cliff.