It’s What You Can’t See That Often Matters

Last weekend, Hubby and I completed our first dive since being certified in open water last fall.  While I was looking forward to restarting this hobby I was not looking forward to the cold water temperature.  We live close to the Great Lakes and dive in Lake Erie – the water that day was 57° at the surface. 🥶

While it was way too cold for swimming, we were prepared with the proper cold water gear:

✔ 7mm neoprene wetsuits and hoods

✔ 5mm gloves and boots

✔ dive skin and dive socks

Not to mention masks, fins, BCDs (buoyancy control device), weights, full tanks of air, and our flag & float (yellow inflatable buoy with red flag indicating to boaters that there are diver’s below).

There was also mental preparation.

The owner of our local dive shop, knowing that I worry about getting cold, offered advice.

He warned that our bodies would be shocked at first by the water temperature; but once we began to swim, the shock would dissipate as our brains started to focus on the tasks necessary for a successful dive.

Along with the physical and mental preparation we were also socially prepared.

The month prior Jerry and I joined the “Blue Dolphins Skin Divers Club”; this was their Memorial Day BBQ and Dive event.  We were surrounded by experienced divers who were more than gracious to lend a hand. From checking our equipment setup, helping put on gloves and hoods, and finally walking us down to the water’s edge, their support helped curb my anxiety.

Everything seemed to be spot-on for a great day!

And then… a comedy of errors.

When trying to put on his fins, Jerry dropped one. Without thinking, we let go of our ‘flag and float’ while I went under to retrieve the fin.  Praise God we were only in 4 feet of water.  After handing Jerry his fin and retrieving the float, we regrouped and began a surface swim out into the lake.

There is an axiom in SCUBA:

Plan the dive. Dive the plan.

So, you may be asking yourself – what was our plan and did we follow it?

Because one never dives alone, Jerry and I were buddied up. He was the leader since he wore the dive computer. I was happy to let him lead.

Our plan was to swim out and locate the shallow underwater pipeline where we hoped to see fish.  Depth would be no more than 20 feet, which would allow for over two hours of dive time or until we were down to 500psi in our tanks (we started with 3,000psi).

Since this was our first dive on our own, we kept our expectations to a minimum. We were happy just to test some basic skills – clearing our masks, equalizing our ears, getting comfortable breathing underwater.

For safety, we planned on keeping shore support in sight along with the other ‘flag and floats’ which would indicate the location of the other divers.  We didn’t want to stray too far from the group.

That was the plan. Did we dive it?  

We tried.

Even with all our planning and preparations we both forgot one simple thing: a 4lb weight.

We were diving with 7mm neoprene suits.  Neoprene is filled with tiny bubbles that help insulate but also add buoyancy, so weight must be added to compensate. The last time we dove, the water temps were warmer and we used only 5mm suits.  Our dive logs (a journal of the dive plan, equipment, and conditions) from that dive indicated that we used 16lbs each.

When we rented our 7mm suits, we didn’t consider the need for an increase in weight. We used the same 16lbs.

We didn’t dive, we floated.

Floating instead of diving meant that we could not see the bottom clearly.  We could not see the pipeline or any fish.  And, I appeared to be strangely weighted as I had difficulty keeping my feet behind me. There were times that I twisted, turned, and rolled just trying to keep control of my body.

To make matters worse, the line from our flag and float got tangled around Jerry’s legs. After getting his attention to stop swimming, I was able to untangle the line. For someone new and poorly weighted, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But, we did it and began our swim again.

This final leg of our journey out into the lake didn’t last long. My fingertips were getting numb; as soon as you feel the cold it’s time to ‘call the dive’.

We agreed that I would lead us back to shore so that hubby could swim, mask in water, and try to see some fish. I was happy to give him the break.

As he passed the flag and float line to me the slack got caught around my flashlight which was clipped to my BCD next to the inflator. As I fumbled to untangle the line, hubby, not realizing the latest predicament, swam ahead of me which pulled the line tighter and made it more difficult to loosen myself.

I finally tugged hard on the part of the line he was holding which caused him to stop and gave me the slack I needed to unwind my flashlight and reset my anxiety.

Freed from the line I looked up to search for our shore support. I was surprised how crowded it had become. For me, this added a new stress to the dive. Because Jerry was in front of me with his face in the water I didn’t know if he realized how crowded the beach was and that we were swimming between kayakers and paddle boarders.

After what seemed like forever on the struggle bus, we finally made it to shore.

Hubby exited first and I followed… but not before getting knocked to my knees by a wave. I was so tired; I couldn’t stand on my own. One of the members of the dive club came out to my rescue. He bravely waded with bare feet in the very cold water to help me up and carry my equipment to the truck.

To those on shore who didn’t know better; Jerry and I probably looked like we knew what we were doing. Things like losing a fin, getting tangled in the line, and being improperly weighted all happen under water. But any member of the dive club with a set of binoculars would have been able to tell that we were newbies messing up.

One more chance to grow in humility.

A week later I was in Ann Arbor for a 5 day conference on spiritual direction. I was sharing a little of my background (non-scuba) with a fellow director; we had been speaking about wounds. I made the comment that the brokenness I experienced was not from any major trauma – no physical abuse or neglect, nothing that would ever need reported, certainly benign compared to others.

She commented that little traumas are like being assaulted by millions of tiny paper cuts. The first few are annoying, but they build over time and they can be just as painful as more obvious injuries. And, because they are so subtle it’s often difficult to pinpoint the wounds to begin the healing process.

What a revelation… for another time.

It does tie into our scuba experience.

While hubby and I didn’t run out of air at depth, suffer from hypothermia, or become lost at sea, each tiny inconvenience was like a papercut.

• Forgetting the extra weight
• Dropping a fin
• Letting go of the flag & float
• Legs getting tangled in the line
• Lack of communication
• Not bringing our knives (I didn’t even mention that)
• Allowing the line to go slack and tangle in my gear
• Losing my balance and falling at the shore

All of these little errors built up my anxiety which used up air.

Remember when I began this story and said we each had a full tank – 3,000psi?

Upon exiting the water I checked my gauges to record my pressure in the dive log. I was down to 1,100psi even though I NEVER ACTUALLY DOVE!!!!

In the spiritual life we need to be vigilant, mindful of those papercuts, and checking our pressures periodically. Without logging details one would not know how to make much needed corrections in the future.

It’s similar with the state of our souls. Without a good spiritual director it would be difficult to gauge progress in the interior life. Having someone to walk with, to help monitor what’s actually going on under the water, helps those who are serious about growing in holiness remain on the right track.

Summer is just starting; there will be many other chances to dive. Hubby and I will read back over our log books and make the appropriate changes. There may be some minor issues as no dive is perfect.

I expect the next outing to be better than the last; and hopefully we’ll see some fish.

Please pray for me as I pray for you!