This summer we were swimming at a lake.  Piper Finn has really advanced in her swimming abilities since last summer but the lake has murky water deeper than all of our heights combined and she still has limited experience in deep water swimming.  I required her to wear a life jacket if she chose to venture past a specific spot in the water.

I’m the mom.  I made a mom decision.

Piper did NOT agree with my decision.

In fact, she pretty much thought it was the WORST.

Her life jacket was cumbersome.  It was heavy.  Everyone who could swim well was not wearing a life jacket and she did not want to be the only kid wearing a life jacket.

That life jacket took away every single last bit of her summer lake fun.  Every single stinking bit.

Piper declared, “I will have NO fun wearing this life jacket.”

And she was basically accurate.

She couldn’t have any fun.

Not because she was wearing a life jacket.  That goofy bothersome orange thing was saving her life.

She was not having fun because she decided that the life jacket was stealing her good times.  It was robbing her.

She let it rob her.

Man, Piper – my girl.

You and me.  We are always learning the same lessons.

Me too.  Me too, Piper Finnian Willow.

This weight.  The life jacket.  All my rescuing stuff.  It’s choking me.  It’s wearing me down.  It’s heavy and it’s cumbersome and I don’t look like  the other moms.  My family doesn’t look like the other families.  Every person I meet can see my orange rescue sign.  My need of help.  My cry for assistance because I can’t swim in the deep waters alone.

I don’t have any freedom.  I can’t play like the others.

This is hard.

This is slow.

This is NO FUN.

It limits me.

I want to declare, just like my eight year old daughter, “I will have NO fun wearing this life jacket.”

I will have no fun because of my family dynamics.  I will have no fun because of the way my life story is playing out.

And of course this analogy breaks down but I think you know my point is a simple one.

The “good time”, the “fun”, so often has very little to do with where we are or what we have, but has so much more to do with how we see our situation and how we view our struggles.  What we do with our personal obstacles – our tacky orange life jackets.  The stuff that tries to define us and make us stand out and draws attention to our weaknesses.

What are we going to do with THAT stuff?

Cry out against the injustice of wearing the life jacket when not everyone else has to?  (Yeah, I want to do that some days.)

Throw a fit?  (It’s so tempting, am I right?)

Sit on the sidelines where no life jacket is required?  (The safe and alluring sidelines.  I hear their siren’s call.)

Stay home?  (The only place you pretend that you don’t have to deal with the life jacket dilemma at all.)

Some days it takes an extra dose of courage just to strap on the orange life jacket and jump into the deep waters and awkwardly swim with all the other life jacket-free swimmers.

Some days we just let that life jacket define us.  We just carry the weight and feel heavy with the burden of it.  We let it ruin our day and stall our fun.

And we know, just like Piper knew on that sunny lake afternoon, it’s just a choice.

Her attitude wasn’t going to change the rule about wearing a life jacket in the deep lake waters.

That life jacket was a non-negotiable.  It was staying put.

But she was either going to wear it and have NO fun or she was going to wear it and swim in the deep waters with her friends.

Yeah.  Me too, Piper.  I get it.  

The choice is hard.

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