Rebecca Carpenter

           Sparkling, shimmering water greeted us as we opened the blinds at our lake cottage.  There are many fond memories of the weekends we spent there while I was growing up.  My brothers, cousins, and I were all drawn to the water whether we were wading, fishing, swimming, or boating. 

            The year that my parents purchased a motorboat was the year that I learned to ride behind it.  My dad had made a device of plywood that was rectangular, with a rope to hold onto for the rider, and another rope which was attached to the boat.   I summoned my courage to try it out, donned the life vest which made me appear neckless, and lay on the red board.  My dad told me to lie down on the board, get onto my knees, and then stand as the speed of the boat increased.  He had glued an old car mat at the back of the board for traction so I was to center myself on the mat.   It all sounded pretty easy to him, but since I was a 10 year old who was not a strong swimmer, it was rather scary to me.  When the boat began moving, I tried to remember everything I had been told and started to get to my knees.  The board wiggled wildly back and forth like a ship in a storm.  My legs just would not straighten to pull my body up so I fell into the dark, threatening waters of Beaver Dam Lake. 

            There was one crucial instruction that I had forgotten during my fall—to let go of the rope.  As I was drug through the water with thousands of bubbles passing before my eyes and gallons of water entering my lungs, I was sure that the end was near.  Finally, I released the rope and dangled in the murky water certain that I snake would devour me before my dad returned with the boat to rescue me. 

            As the boat neared, I was thrilled with the thought of climbing into the boat and returning to shore to swim peacefully.  Imagine my dismay when my dad told me that he wanted me to try again!  Was he trying to drown his only daughter and first born child? 

            “I do not want to!!” I cried.  Didn’t he realize how close I was to death?

            “Get a hold of the rope and try again,” he replied nonchalantly.

            “I want to get into the boat!” I exclaimed louder through more tears.

            “You need to do it again.  If you quit now, you won’t want to ever try again,” he answered.

            I was angry and still teary but knew that I had no choice since it was a long way to shore.  I reached the board, grabbed the rope, and lay on the board waiting for the boat to speed up.  I knew that I was not a quitter, and I would show him!  This time I did not struggle so much and let the boat pull me up. I rode the board like I had done it for years.  (At least I did not fall.)  If my dad had not forced me to continue, I would probably have done it at some point but would have missed the fun others were having before I summoned my courage to try again.

            Even though I did not like being pushed that day, I remembered that lesson at other times in my life when things got tough, and I wanted to quit.  I learned to do my best even in difficult circumstances.  There were many lessons that I learned from my dad which helped me throughout my life.  Those lessons have also helped me to learn and rely on my Heavenly Father.