The Danger of a Teaspoon

Kathryn Pasker Ineck discovers that exploring misplaced fear can open a world of understanding.

“Did you know,” my dad asked conversationally one evening as our family sat around the dinner table, “that you can drown in a teaspoonful of water?”

I looked at him, wide-eyed, over my forkful of buttery sweet corn. My eight-year-old brain processed this alarming information. All the warning labels on five-gallon buckets seemed like overkill if it only takes a single teaspoon.

I carried my fear of drowning with me as I grew. Every so often I would slip this little factoid into conversation—almost as a mantra for safety—and received polite looks and no responses.

You can drown in a teaspoonful of water.

Dad meant, of course, that a teaspoonful of water in the lungs is enough to cause serious damage, but it took me many years to realize my misunderstanding. On the rare occasion that I found myself in a pool or lake, I taught myself to tread water and back float for my own safety, but refused to put my head underwater.

And as we had children and they grew to be sturdy preschoolers? Into swimming lessons they went, month after month and year after year. I joked that I needed them to save themselves since I obviously can’t save them myself, but I kind of wasn’t joking.

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At four, our eldest son, Digit, took to the water like a fish, bobbing underwater with glee. Duke was three and was more hesitant so I began get into the pool with them after class. While Digit splashed around, I would hold Duke securely on my hip, strap goggles over my ponytail, and bob up and down, up and down, blowing bubbles with Duke under the water, slowly traveling from one end of the pool to the other.

From all appearances, I was a fun mom, reinforcing the skills the kids learned in lessons and trying to help Duke acclimate. In reality, I was practicing the skills I learned by listening intently to the kids’ instructors (often teen-aged children themselves).

The kids continued to take swimming lessons and the occasional season of rec-league swim team, and I was no longer needed in the pool. I prayed countless Rosaries and Divine Mercy chaplets on the pool deck as the kids hopped fearlessly into the pool to swim laps, tease each other, and enjoy the water. I hoped that no one would notice the tears welling up in my eyes every time I watched them swim confidently.

In well over a teaspoonful of water.

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It occurred to me recently that, while Himself a carpenter, the majority of Jesus’s disciples were fishermen. They spent their careers on and in the water. The Bible frequently recounts stories of Jesus on the Sea of Galilee, either accompanying the Apostles at work fishing or using the fishing boats as pseudo-podiums since the hillsides at the shore formed an amphitheater allowing crowds of people to hear Jesus speak.

Even with their familiarity and confidence atop the Sea, the Gospel of Mark (Chapter 4) recounts a time these fishermen were fearful. They had spent all day with Jesus on the water as he evangelized His followers and onlookers still on shore with parables of the mustard seed and the sower and the lamp. Later, Jesus and the disciples sailed across the Sea to find a quiet resting place. As they sailed, Jesus fell asleep. I can imagine the peaceful, quiet rocking of the boat was enough to lull Him into rest.

Soon, however, a rather violent storm came upon them, one so fierce that even the fear-less fishermen were frightened. Wave after wave rose up and splashed across the boat, beginning to fill it. This is a very good reason to be frightened—and a much better reason than my irrational fear of a single teaspoonful.

And yet, Jesus slept on a cushion, unperturbed by the maelstrom.

When the frantic Apostles woke Him, desperate for help, His response doesn’t meet the panic of his friends. Similar to the response a dad offers when he’s awakened by his child frightened by a nightmare: irritated to be torn from sleep but willing to act out of love for her to banish the monster, tuck her back in, pray with her.

[Jesus] woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!" The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” (Mark 4:39-40)

Do you not yet have faith?

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We don’t have to be controlled by our fear, because we know that our God is much, much bigger than our very lives. #CatholicMom

There are dangers out in the world. We can’t escape that. But we don’t have to be controlled by our fear of those dangers, either, because we know that our God is much, much bigger than our very lives. He loves us and our faith in Him reminds us that, no matter what happens here on Earth, we are His: our home is with Him in heaven.

You’ll be glad to know, Dear Reader, that my children did not absorb my fear of water. Digit is now gainfully employed as a swim instructor. And Duke is a certified lifeguard.

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