I’m afraid of water.

It started the summer I was six when my mother enrolled me in swim classes at the YMCA.  The swim instructor "taught" us to float by telling us to lay on our backs while kicking.   We didn't wear life preservers, but there was this long rope down the middle of the pool that we were promised would save us, should we need to grab it.  That turned out to be a lie. When I went down, so did the rope. It was my second class, and my last.

Then there were the pool parties in my high school days, where the boys would sneak up on the girls and throw us into the deep end.   My begging and pleading, "I can't swim, so please don't throw me in," went ignored.  

I’m afraid of water. It’s part of who I am.

But last week, on a trip to the island of Turks and Caicos for my friends Ayanna and Tim's destination wedding, I decided to take mind over matter and face this fear once and for all.  The fear had become crippling; advanced beyond just that of deep water.  I did not want to kayak or sail on it, nor snorkel in it. I avoided all speed boats, jet skis and the like, while I watched others from the safety of the shore.  "I'll just hang back and take pictures of you guys," I would always reason. 

In the Bible, there is a story about Peter which pertains to water and fear and faith.  As he drifted in a boat with the other disciples, Peter was told by The Master to get out of the boat.  I can only imagine that Peter thought to himself: No way!  I'll drown!   "Oh ye, of little faith," said Jesus. "Get out of the boat, Peter."  When Peter finally did so, he  was astonished to find that he stood upon the waters.   "Look at me," he exclaimed, "I'm walking on water!" - a testament to having faith and facing one's fears. That story in mind, I was armed with the motivation that can only come from The Word, and the carefree, wild abandon that can only come from being on a Caribbean island, suspended in time; not a care in the world and miles of turquoise-colored water calling me closer.   It was now or never.

So a friend of mine, who swims like a fish and loves all water sports, went to our resort's boat rental, and checked out a kayak and two paddles.  I took a deep breath, put on my life preserver, said a prayer and climbed in the front seat of the boat.  I was spoon fed constant words of encouragement from my friend, since I was the student and he was my teacher.  "We won't go out too far.  You're doing great.  You're doing fine," he said calmly.   I was taking baby steps. 

Now, paddling is a workout.  I broke a sweat quickly, and I could feel my abs and back muscles contracting with every motion. But it was effortless, gliding through the water with just an easy, rhythmic thrust of my paddle.  Learning which side to paddle on if I wanted to make a turn, and how much effort it took to go a certain speed.   Turning to look over my shoulder, I saw tiny specks on the shore - my friends waving and cheering me on!   I suddenly realized that the lesson had ended and we were far from the shore.  I had forgotten to be afraid.

Out of nowhere came the resort rescue boat, it's driver blowing a whistle and shouting something I couldn't comprehend at first, due to his heavy island accent. 

 "You done gon out too far!  You no suppose to bee ow-tear dis far!"

I mean, he rode up on us like the po-po (as they say on HBO's The Wire)!  In my moment of triumph, I had gone out too far!  Me?  Too far out in the waters?  Wow!  I was proud of myself.  I'm sure he mistook my big grin for rebellion.  He was sure we broke the resort rules on purpose! 

I turned from island girl back to DC girl with, "See what had happened was..."  He didn't want to hear it.  

After a bit more scolding, our punishment was to head back to the shore to return the boat immediately. 

"No problem my brother.  We meant no disrespect," my friend told him.  "Mr. Rescue" seemed to accept the apology. Still not fully convinced of our innocence though, he rode close behind; escorting us back to shore.  I felt like a free-spirited, daredevil and it was an absolute blast!

The lesson for me was that sometimes we don't try new and exciting things, because we imagine the worst. Is there a nice brother that you've always wanted to ask out to lunch, but were afraid of rejection? Have you been putting off asking the boss for that long overdue raise?    Once we tackle our fears of the unknown and get right out there, we may find that those rough, scary waves we imagine will knock us over and take us under, turn out to be cool,calm waters.  Paradise.  A beautiful sight to behold.  Chart your course, navigate and see if it's true for you too!  As for me, I went from sitting on the shores watching everyone else have the best of times, to joining in and learning something new.  In the end, I found courage I never thought I had. 

But I caution you: One thing about taking one giant, liberating leap of faith and throwing caution to the wind -  It's sort of like that potato chip slogan.  You can't do it just once.  It's addictive!  By the time I waved goodbye to Turks and Caicos, I had sailing and snorkeling under my belt too, and I even did something I haven't done since I was 12 and figured I could never do again in this life:  I rocked a bikini!  (More on that in next week's column)