Last week, I sat on the edge of the pool at Heilmann Performance swim lessons at Ramstad Middle School after moving to Minot recently, listening to my daughter’s cries echo across the water. Sharp and aching, they settled right into my chest before I even realized I was holding my own breath. Every tear felt like it was pulling something loose inside me. Real, heartbroken tears. The kind that made me wonder if there were enough to refill the whole pool!
And if I’m 100% honest… I was trying really hard not to cry too.
The instructors were incredible. Patient. Calm. Kind. They never rushed her or made her feel like she was failing. And while my sweet girl cried enough tears to fill the pool, my son was busy seeing just how far he could push every boundary imaginable. 😂 They handled both of them with so much grace that I found myself feeling just as supported as my kids did.
Because I got it.
She was being asked to do something scary. She was in a new place with new people, trying to trust someone she had just met. Everything felt unfamiliar, and everyone else looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.
Then it hit me.
Isn’t that exactly what moving feels like?
We ask our kids to be incredibly brave. To start new schools. Make new friends. Learn new routines. Figure out a new town, new weather, new teachers, new everything. We tell them, “You’ll be okay.”
But then we forget to give ourselves that same grace.
Every move, I’ve made it a point not to stay home for long. If we’re not unpacking, we’re out. At the park. At community events. At coffee shops. At swim lessons. Right now we’re finding our way around Minot one outing at a time. Not because it’s easy, but because I know there’s a different kind of pool waiting for me too.The one full of strangers who might become friends. The businesses I hope to partner with. The moms I haven’t met yet. The community we have to choose to step into before it ever starts feeling like home.
And yes, we’re back in Minot. We’ve already been welcomed back with so much kindness from old friends and new faces, and I’m incredibly thankful for that. But we’re still finding our rhythm again. My kids are building their own friendships. I’m building mine. We’re all learning where we fit.
As I watched my little girl find the courage to get back in the water after every set of tears, I realized she was teaching me something.
Being brave isn’t about not being scared. It’s about climbing into the pool anyway.
Kick. Kick. Kicking while crying sometimes.
Here’s to all of us who are starting over, trying something new, or learning to feel at home again.
One brave step at a time, until one day, without even realizing it, we look around and discover we’re no longer just staying afloat…
We’re swimming!
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