DO YOU TRUST ME???

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DO YOU TRUST ME?
Summers. 

When you’re a kid, summers are mainly supposed to be for swimming.

Every day, if possible.  Wherever there is enough clean water (river, ocean, lake or pool) there should be friends and family having refreshing fun together. Enjoying the warm sun (plenty of sunscreen), the startling splash of the unsuspected dive bomb, calling out “Marco” and listening for “Polo,” or diving a perfect 10, barely disturbing the water’s surface.
 
OR, doing backflips from the side of the pool with your new summer vacation friend. . .

Oh wait.  That one day—she and I were taking turns.  When I flipped back from the edge of the pool, she was coming up. Our skulls collided.  Both of us suffered minor concussions.  Scary.

After that little trauma, swimming pools were less of a summer draw for me.

I still loved being near water—wading, boating, even water-skiing (riding ON the water, not floundering IN the water) . . . 

And NEVER scuba diving. Trying to breathe underwater is both unnatural, and in my case, unthinkable. 
Enter, a scuba-diving fiancée. And he wanted to teach me. I had to try, right???

The breathing went okay, for a minute. Maybe ten minutes. It seemed like longer, and I became anxious. I had a question I couldn’t ask. I wanted to surface. He didn’t seem to understand, so I turned to move toward shallow water and shore. 

I didn’t understand that I’d become disoriented. I was moving to deeper water and farther away from shore. My fiancée had to grab my arm and pull me back.

A few years later I tried snorkeling in Cozumel. I quickly lost the battle with the choppy waves, the strong current, and the coral wall.

Then a couple of years later, I was with friends floating a south Texas river in an innertube. 

We were tubing though some river rapids.  My rented tube had been leaking and was losing buoyancy.  Going through an area of particularly strong rapids due to rocks blocking the passageway, my tube got hooked on the point of a rock.  I was stuck (or at least I THOUGHT I was stuck.)  My companions, some floating in calmer waters, and some from the edge on a gravel bar called out to me: “Just stand up!  Stand up!”

River rapids cascaded around and over me.  I answered, “I can’t!”  It was hard to catch a breath, and I thought I would drown.  

Finally, realizing no one was on their way to help me, I stood up.  Afraid and embarrassed. Out of breath. Weak from fighting the strong current.  I wanted to hide or cry, or both.
 
So, What Went Wrong?
Several adjustments to each of these scary events in my life could have made a big difference in the outcomes:

(1) A good, trustworthy overseer who checks the equipment before renting it out to an unsuspecting aquaphobe.
(2) Mental preparation that would include caution and curiosity,    and/or
(3) A conscious choice to trust someone else more than I trust myself.

None of the above were on the table, but neither did I realize I needed them. Afterall, I’m a smart, capable, individual.  I can figure this out.  People do these things all the time. I know what I can handle and what I can’t.   I know what I want to do.  What if they tell me to do something I know I DON’T want to do?

The reality that I was not mentally or emotionally prepared never became a conscious concern.  In the head-bonk pool experience we were just kids having fun.  As far as snorkeling in Cozumel or scuba diving in a lake---I never thought that maybe a little advance reading or asking questions, or a little practice in a safer setting, would help things go better.  (I thought the NIKE motto was plenty of preparation—“Just DO It!”)

And trusting a person??? People can’t be trusted.  People never see eye-to-eye.  If I ask for help, I’ll probably ask the wrong person.  Or they won’t understand what I need.  I know myself better than anyone.  I don’t want to make someone mad because I chose not to listen.  I trust myself. It’ll be fine.

It wasn’t fine.  And each trauma event added tension to the panic trigger in my psyche tied to water activities.  Still, I loved being around water. Still loved being IN water, as long as I could touch the bottom.   But anything remotely new or challenging  related to water triggered panic, dread, and  giving up before I tried.
 
But One Day, I Tried
My husband and I are retired empty nesters who have managed, by God’s grace, to be able to afford some retirement adventures. 

We recently went on our first post-retirement expedition together.  A tour of the Galapagos Islands aboard a beautiful yacht, the Petrel.

I had travelled alone with this adventure tour group once a couple of years prior.  At that time, I was coming out of some serious life circumstances that had seemed to hit all at once and kept hitting for a couple of years.  I felt I’d been emotionally pounded by relentless Pacific waves at high tide.  I needed to catch my breath, reset, spend uninterrupted time in God’s presence, and listen to Him.  And I knew that I knew—He had called me to this rest, and to this place.

The tour group took care of everything.  For 10 days, I soaked in natural beauty, rest, kindness, wonder.  So when Carl and I took our first bucket list trip, it was with the same group.

The tour’s agenda included seven snorkeling adventures. The travel literature assured us that even if you had not ever snorkeled, the level of skill needed was minimal and you would enjoy swimming with the sea lions and sea turtles and viewing all the underwater beauty. 

BUT, if you weren’t into snorkeling, no problem.  All excursions were optional.  You can enjoy relaxing aboard the ship instead.

So, I dared to believe, “Maybe I can enjoy this.  Maybe I can get over some fear. Or, if not, just stand in shallower water and look at the underwater life immediately around me.  OR, stay on the yacht, and relax.  It’ll be fine.”

The first snorkel activity was learning to put on our wet suits, masks, and snorkels.  We had a short course off of a white sandy beach to safely become comfortable with the experience.

I waded out into waist-deep water. At first, I got a little anxious.  The guide instructed: "Place your face in the water, breathe through your mouth, and when you are ready, lift your feet and float."  

Everyone else was off and floating immediately.  I put my face in the water, and muscle memory kicked in for the breathing part—intending to breathe through my snorkel, my brain over-rode my command and I inhaled through my nostrils, sucking up the rubber of my mask.  I panicked, and my ‘freeze’ response kicked in.  I stood still, trying to process what I did wrong, and what I should do.

I tried again—same result.

The guides were watching us and Jonathon approached me with a life preserver. With a rope attached.
“Are you okay?  Is your equipment working?” he asked.

I said, “Not my brain.  Muscle memory says, ‘No—you can’t breath through your mouth underwater!’”

He helped me through that briefly.  I learned to take a breath before putting my face in, then exhale through my mouth, which got me also inhaling through my mouth.

Step two: “Put your face in the water, hold on to the life preserver, and enjoy the ride.” Jonathon looped the life preserver's rope around his foot, and off we went while I practiced floating and breathing. 

Step three:  “KEEP your face in the water.”  (I kept wanting to look around to see where I was.  Getting deeper?  Going toward the rocks?)  “KEEP. Your. Face. IN. The. Water.”

The equipment check/practice snorkel was over very quickly, and back to The Petrel we went for lunch.

Next Hurdle
Our next snorkeling op was later that same day.  A ‘for real’ deep water snorkel.  Instead of wading into the water from the shore, we slid off the side of the panga into deep, choppy water.  I was nervous again, and the last one to slide into the water.

The cold water took my breath away, but I tried to relax.  “Put your face in the water,” I heard. 

“Okay.”  I tried, but the freeze response had control of my brain. AGAIN.  I had no rope (yet). The group was already quite far away,. The current fought against any swimming progress, and my brain would not let me just float. I struggled.  I called for help.  I got back in the panga and watched from there.

If You Fall Off a Horse . . .
About 20 minutes later I heard Jonathon’s voice call out to me. 
“Are you ready to try again?”
ME: “No, I’m good here.”
JONATHON: “You should try again. You can do this.”
ME: “No, I’ll try again tomorrow.”
JONATHON: “You can hold on to the preserver.  I will have you.”
ME: “No, really I think. . .”
JONATHON: “DO YOU TRUST ME?”

BA-BAM!

There it was.  The question that changes everything.  How can I answer that and still stay in the panga?  NOW it was ME I didn’t trust.  I knew Jonathon, my guide, was worthy of my trust. so. . .

ME: (sheepishly) “Yeessss???”

JONATHON: “Then get in the water. Hold on to the rope on the preserver. I will pull you, just relax.”

I did. 
He did.
And WE did.
Wow.       Hundreds of bright red sea stars, colorful clown fish, sea turtles passing in front of me, anemone, coral, a  baby hammerhead shark resting on the bottom.  Left to myself, I would have missed it all. (Selah)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
“Trust Me!”
What emotions surface in you when you hear:
“DO YOU TRUST ME?”

Even if you don’t have a reference for who “Me” is, that question can trigger a lot of other questions. 
Who is, “Me”?   My spouse? My Mom? My Dad?  A complete stranger?  My boss?  My friend? My doctor?
Are you worthy of my (or anyone’s) trust? How do I know?  Who benefits if I trust your instincts over my own?  Do you profit, possibly at my expense?  Will my life be enriched because I trusted you? 

Conversely, if I need you to trust me, am I really worthy of your trust?  Will your life be enriched because you trusted me?  How can you know?

The writings to follow will explore trust.  One thing Jonathon made real to me:  Without his guidance. . . without his kindness, his expertise, and my decision to trust him, the outcome of my trip would have been at the least, somewhat disappointing.  But instead, I felt like an overcomer, some deep-seated fears began to heal, and, in the end, lots of great stories to share and remember.  Because of a wonderful guide who had my trust.

So. . .

• What does it mean to ‘trust’ another person? 
• What does it mean for someone to trust ME?
• Most especially, what does it mean to fully ‘trust’ God? 
• What can we learn from studying the characteristics of a trusting relationship?  What can we learn about following a trustworthy guide to see ourselves really transform into more than we are? To experience wonder, excitement, fulfillment, challenge, growth, joy, throughout our lives?  AND how can we be those trustworthy guides to help others do the same?

WHEW!  A lofty goal for sure!  And I constantly wonder, who am I to try to tackle that subject when I’ve just begun  to put my proverbial ‘toe in the water’ and experience some amount of transcendence into the radiant innocence expressed in Psalm 37: 5-6 . . .

“Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn, and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun.  Be still in the presence of the Lord and wait patiently for him to act.”

So, may I offer a prayer of commitment to start this off right?
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“Lord God, I commit these essays to you.  I commit this time spent studying to You.  Guide me into the deeper waters of complete trust.  I know that, like ‘love’ and ‘faith’ are action words (and not “things”),  ‘trust’ is not exactly a noun—a thing to be pointed to, held, or thrown in someone’s face when a relationship is falling apart. 
Trust may not even be a verb—something to “do.” 
“Whatever it is—a state of mind or a rule of life, or something else—all I know is that I want to trust you more and more, no matter where You might take me. I want to follow You well, so that Your works and Your ways will indeed shine through me like the noonday sun.  And for others on this journey with me, I make the same request. I believe Your promise to us that You will do more than we could ever ask or think!  Let Your people move out beyond the concept of ‘trust’ into transcendent trust in their perfect and all-knowing Father, Creator, Savior, Shepherd, Teacher and Guide-- God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.  Amen.”

We all need trusted guides to help us focus on the task, overcome the fears, know the territory we are in and how to navigate it well.  To wrap this one up, I hope you'll check out this song (originally recorded by Mo Pitney) and posted recently on Facebook by my new favorite musician (and American Idol 2026 winner), Hannah Harper.

"I'm not the only one behind this guitar."
(Mo Pitney version on YouTube, 2016)

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Behind This Guitar, Hannah Harper