God at the bottom of the waterslide

A spiritual epiphany at the waterpark

Today was one of those days that if you have access to a neighborhood pool, you probably don’t dream of doing. But since that’s not my reality, I packed up all the stuff and headed to our community waterpark with my mom, sister, and both our sets of kids—six varying-aged littles in all, happy to participate in a day of summer fun with some of my favorite people. The weather forecast was calling for a 95-degree high. As could have been guessed, upon pulling into the parking lot, the line to get through the gate and into the massive waterpark was wrapped around the facility. The sight of adults carrying towel bags and coolers and simultaneously applying sunscreen on their squirmy kids in the stand-still line seemed to go on for miles.

Amidst the anxious anticipation of what it will take to keep everyone safe in the splash park on steroids, the question is always: will we get in before it reaches capacity? Nevertheless, we got through. After paying at the gate and getting past the security checkpoint, the scene was even more nuts: an overcrowded concrete beach lay sprawled out before me. Nevertheless, we do this at least once a summer. That’s how I knew not to come alone with my three kids. It’s always a call-in-the-reinforcements kind of endeavor. So, even though my sister just doubles the amount of kids to watch, she also offers an extra set of eyes. Grandma helps offset the adult-to-kid ratio to a doable level.

Despite the chaos, it’s worth doing once or twice a summer if you ask me: featuring a lazy river that coils through all the other attractions (only it doesn’t look so lazy right now stuffed bumper-to-bumper with splashing kids in innertubes), it also features varying waterslides and even an area to try surfing on a simulated ocean wave. Because you know, we live in Indiana.

The kids are declaring where they are going to head first as soon as we find a place to set our stuff down. After settling our beach bags under the tiny square foot of shade that was left in the entire park, the three of us adults divided to conquer, stationing ourselves at the different water features. We communicated back and forth as best we could about which kids each of us were currently overseeing. Things were off to a good start.

From my vantage point, even though I wasn’t in charge of watching him at that moment, I could see my 6-year-old nephew come down his first water slide. Since both the kiddos under my care were safely holding onto the edge of the pool, I kept watching him from afar. I could tell that he was looking for Grandma who said she would be waiting at the bottom, but all he could see were seemingly thousands of other people, none of them her familiar face. He looked straight out in front of him, squinting for a few seconds. Then his eyes darted to the right and the left. I could see the panic starting to flood his face. I called his name and waved, but it was muted by the crowd. The kids I was currently in charge of were venturing into the deep end, and there were too many people between him and I. He looked right past my waving arms.

Thankfully, I could also see Grandma who was in the general vicinity of the bottom of the slide, and she was looking straight at my nephew. She had been waiting for him to slide down the teal blue tube, just like she said she would be. My eyes darted from Grandma to my nephew. He couldn’t see what I could see. As his internal view of things became more distorted, he determined to abandon the area at the bottom of the slide, even though that is where Grandma said she would be and where she actually was waiting for him. Instead, he set off in the opposite direction on a panicked search.

It was such an interesting thing to watch this thing unfold with my nephew. I immediately began connecting the dots between what was going on with this seemingly lost 6-year-old and my own real life. I could just imagine his inner dialogue. I’m lost. Where did Grandma go? She said she would be right here. She left me. I’m all alone. What am I going to do?

Luckily, my mom kept weaving through the traffic of people to get to him. She knew it was no use calling his name because it would get drowned out in all the noise. She just kept following behind him until she was able to get close enough where there was a clearing in the chaos and he could hear her calling his name. As you can imagine, a look of relief overcame his previously scrunched-up face. He relaxed a bit and there was a hint of a smile. Grandma had been looking for him the entire time (insert: duh).

But how many times do I do this in my own life? God is right there. He sees me. He is flailing His arms. He’s calling my name. He’s saying, I’m right here. I didn’t leave you. But the crowd is too loud. I’ve got myself in a place where I can’t hear above the noise. And it’s not until the distractions are cleared out that I can start to see and hear again. He’s got something to say to me, and I’m finally ready to hear it.

Whenever I head to a large event where I know there will be a lot of people and a large area to navigate, I remind my kids not only of the safety plan and what to do if we get separated from each other, but I also try to remind them that if that happens, they need not panic. Because here’s the reality: if they are lost, they can be assured I’m on the other end of things looking for them as well. I will not leave them. So I grab their little face and look them in the eye and tell them: You can be sure I won’t leave here without you. I’m their parent and I love them.

The hope is that this understanding will help them to think more calmly and clearly in the moment. When you are reminded that you are loved, the panic dissipates. Or rather, it should. But it’s hard to remember when you’re going through the hard stuff of life. Even the daily hard stuff. Even the challenge of starting a blog was a giant exercise in trusting that God is on the other end of things. I’m bad at tech. What if others don’t want to read what I have to say? What if I’m not cut out for this? There are a lot of unknowns, but when you know you are cared for, there’s less reason to worry. I’m learning to lean into the love I know my Heavenly Father has for me, and to practice patience for God’s plan to unfold in His perfect way and timing. Like with my nephew at the bottom of the waterslide, when there is trouble, help is on the way. God is always on the other end of things, saying I’m right here. I won’t leave you. I’m coming after you. (Hebrews 13:5)

When have you had a bottom of the waterslide moment? Leave me a comment!