You’re probably familiar with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Separately, three people came upon a man who’d been mugged. One was a priest, another a Levite, and the last a Samaritan, who would have been hated by the Jews. Typically, we walk away from the story thinking we should be more compassionate toward others, especially those we normally wouldn’t like. But, as there usually is, there’s more to the story.
So I’d stand at the deep end psyching myself up for what I know would be a frigid shock. The girls would urge me on, saying, “Come on, Daddy! It’s not that cold,” their blue lips betraying them. Like a shuttle launching, they’d count me down from ten and, disappointed, find me after zero still standing there, like someone forgot to light the boosters.