The Solid Misery of the Lily Pad
The frog merely made the decision to jump – he hasn't jumped yet!
The lily pad is solid beneath my feet. Yes, it's soaked with my tears. Yes, I'm miserable here. But it's known. The water—faith, surrender, trust—looks deep and cold. I can see my reflection rippling on the surface, distorted and unfamiliar.
Deciding to jump feels like work I can accomplish. I can think about it, plan it, announce it in meetings. 'I've decided to turn my will and life over to God.' The decision lives in my head where I have control. But jumping—actually jumping—feels impossible. It requires releasing my grip on the solid thing beneath me and trusting the water will hold me.
The gap between deciding and jumping is where my control lives. As long as I stay in the decision phase, I can manage my risk, hedge my bets, keep one foot on the lily pad 'just in case.' But the water doesn't care about my decisions. It only responds to my body entering it.
Al-Anon is teaching me that the lily pad—my current misery—feels safer than faith because at least I know what to expect. The hesitation isn't weakness; it's the very human terror of letting go of solid ground, even when that ground is destroying me.
When I notice myself stuck in the 'decision' phase without taking action, I can pause and ask: What am I afraid will happen if I actually jump? Can I identify what feels 'solid' about my current misery that makes faith feel dangerous? What if the water I'm afraid of is actually the only thing that can hold me?
