"Fly baby, fly!" - My most important lesson.

             My great grandmother and I are very close. Extremely close. Like a blazing chainsaw two centimeters from your nose, close. My dad used to say we were twins, just born 60 years apart. We've always shared some inexplicable, out-of-this-world connection with each other.

            She never failed to support me. It seemed like she came to every one of my gymnastics meets. Even from when I was young, when my gymnastics meant sticking my butt in the air, tucking my head, and gracefully flopping to the ground, she was right there cheering me on, telling me l looked better than any of the girls out there! And the boys, “they weren't even competition, babydoll!”

            My life was brought to an abrupt halt when my great grandma suffered a life-altering stroke that left her eyesight completely wiped out. My grandma was officially blind. I knew things would be different, but it was nothing like I expected. She still made it to all my important nine-year-old events, maybe even more than before. And, although she couldn’t see a thing, she still told me I looked better than all the other girls.

            Through all the big moments she told me to shine. Shining was important to her. Shining and flying.

            A few years later was my state-qualifying gymnastics meet – a big deal and a lot of stress for my eleven years. But, of course, my grandma was coming!

After doing fairly well on all my other events, the dreaded beam came next. I don’t know how anyone could like the beam. Who takes pleasure in risking your life parading back and forth on a six-inch-wide tree branch?! Countless bruises and falls were indication of the stress of being up there. And I hated every minute of it.

But, I came to conquer! I slowly took a deep breath and stepped up beside my wooden contester. I saluted the judges and mounted the beam. Determined, I hit every move with grace and strength, every turn with ease, and every trick with perfection. But then came my scissor-double turn leap – an impossible leap to perform on solid ground, let alone this tree branch! But I took a deep breath, imagining perfection. I focused in, took two running steps, then suddenly, as if on cue, my feet left the ground as I heard the unmistakable voice of my grandmother yell, “Fly baby, fly!”

            Shocked, embarrassed, and a deep shade of red, I landed my leap, wavering for only a second before finishing my routine.

I placed first on beam that day. I don’t know why and I sure as hell don’t know how! At dinner that night we laughed about the odd coincidence while my grandma just smiled and smiled.

            Years later, I still think back to that moment. Although she’s gone now, I still try to figure out the meaning behind those words. Part of my thinks she was just cheering me on. She couldn’t see what was happening and coincidently chose that precise moment in time to yell those simple, meaningless words of encouragement. But the other parts of me scream for a deeper meaning.

            Maybe, through all of God’s many, many ways, it was a coded message just for me; That we’ll all go through life, some of us stuck in the same, old routines, letting others judge, rank, and score us based on how THEY think we are doing. And we let that control us. But the brave ones know, there’s something bigger and better awaiting us! All we have to do is take our own leap of faith – no matter how impossible it may seem. We may have moments where we feel week, we’ll waiver and shake – much like a plane during takeoff, life’s going to be rough before it can get better….before you can soar!

            So, fly baby fly? Oh grandma, for you, I’ll try everyday.