I wish I could tell you I’m a graceful swimmer who effortlessly glides through the water, beautifully coordinating her arms, legs, and breathing. I am not that woman. At least, not yet. Some days, practicing a basic skill for what feels like the millionth time still results in thrashing water and anxiously gasping for air. Imagine my rubber fins, an oversized swim cap, goggles, and my six-foot frame in a one-piece bathing suit, and you can imagine the scene. But nevertheless, God is speaking.

In 1997, my mother believed God directed her to buy a Dodge Caravan minivan. I had hoped for something a little cooler. A green minivan was not exactly my idea of driving in style. But that van became our family’s sole source of transportation for an entire summer, shared by my mother, my brother, and me. I saw a green van but God saw what our family would need.

I didn’t tell Mary that I had signed up for adult swimming lessons in my 20's at the local YMCA—twice. Both times, I quit around the fourth week because I simply could not get the hang of it. It was especially unnerving to watch children who barely reached my knees having the time of their lives. They floated, backstroked and front-crawled across the pool as if they had been born with fins. Meanwhile, I could barely get my legs to rise behind me! But Mary was calm, reassuring and positive.