Sunday afternoon after church, we had the most wonderful opportunity: A man from church took us out on his boat to water ski on a nearby lake. Ah! It was so much fun! I had water skied once before, when I was 15, so I didn't really know what I was doing, but I was able to get up on my feet on my second try, and we zoomed off down the lake. Pretty soon I discovered how to cross back and forth across the wake of the boat, and before long, the daredevilry in me came out and I was jumping as high as I could when I would go over the wake. (Don't get any ideas of this being anything dramatic or impressive--I was not strong enough or skilled enough to get much air.)
|Mr. Long, the owner of the boat, dazzled us all with his exploits on the slalom ski.|
|Dad looks on with interest and pride in his athletic kids|
So now I'm hobbling around, enjoying the support of a borrowed knee brace. I suspect it's a case of "there goes my knee forever."
Sunday night when I got home, I verbally thanked God and did the best leap for joy I could manage. My dad saw me and didn't know what was going on. "Just be careful, now," he cautioned me. I smiled to myself, leaping in my heart, looking forward to what God is going to do.