you are not behind

For years, we’ve spent our summers at a nearby lake.

My son, Jaylen, has always been surrounded by water. It became part of his rhythm—especially after church on Sundays, when we’d all head to the lake with friends to swim, laugh, and unwind together.

There’s one memory I still carry vividly. One afternoon, we were gathered with our friends, all of us just hanging out, when I looked over and saw Jaylen—small and fearless—jump straight off the dock and into the water, swimming toward a water trampoline all by himself.

I jumped in after him, laughing, not out of fear but out of awe. Even then, I was struck by his confidence—how he knew what he wanted and went for it, completely unbothered by who was watching or waiting for permission.

But then, something shifted. A few years later, Jaylen became scared to swim without me holding him. He wouldn’t go underwater, and he was hesitant every time I tried to help him relearn. I remember the frustration—wondering why he had lost that bravery, why it seemed like we were starting from scratch.

He was about 7 at the time. And slowly, I noticed myself falling into quiet comparison. Other kids his age were leaping into the deep end, doing flips, swimming laps—and I began questioning why he wasn’t there too. It felt like he had regressed, and that comparison made me feel pressure to get him “caught up.”

His dad and I kept encouraging him, walking him through his fears gently—but he wouldn’t budge.

Until his 8th birthday.

That day, we met a homeschool friend of his at the pool. And something about that moment changed everything. This friend didn’t tease or pressure him. He didn’t make Jaylen feel behind. Instead, he swam beside him, showed him tricks, encouraged him with real excitement. He celebrated him, not competed with him. And just like that, I watched something click.

Jaylen dove in again—with no fear.

He jumped. He did his tricks. He held his breath for as long as he could. And I stood there in awe, taking in the joy and aliveness radiating from my son. That moment taught me two deep truths I’ll carry with me forever:

Who you have around you matters.

The presence of one safe, supportive peer did what even my best coaching couldn’t: it made fear feel less alone. Jaylen didn’t need someone to “fix” him—he needed someone to meet him where he was, to believe in him without expectation or pressure. That friend didn’t compete, compare, or judge. He simply stood beside Jaylen until confidence came back to life.

We all need that—especially kids. People who create safety, not stress. People who make space for our fears while still calling us toward courage. That’s where growth lives.

My son was never behind.

The timeline I was comparing him to? It wasn’t real. It was made up of invisible standards, subtle pressure, and quiet fear that he wasn’t “keeping up.” But that timeline wasn’t his. It was a reflection of my insecurities, not his limitations.

Jaylen didn’t need to rush. He needed to feel safe. He needed to go at his own pace—and when he did, joy came naturally. What looked like a setback was actually a setup for deeper strength, trust, and self-assurance.

He wasn’t behind. He was just building bravery in a different way.

These days, water is Jaylen's natural habitat and every time he requests to go swimming, I am reminded of that day where I watched him grow. That day reminds me: Growth isn’t always loud or linear. Sometimes, it hides inside quiet moments—like a boy learning to swim again, not just with his body, but with his heart.

Maybe you’re in a season where you’re questioning someone’s pace—your child’s, your own, or even your growth in healing, relationships, or purpose. Maybe you’ve felt that quiet pressure to “catch up,” to be fearless, to arrive faster. 

But what if you—or they—are not behind at all?

Those comparison symptoms have an underlying root that God desires to heal. 

What if the timeline you’ve been measuring against isn’t actually real?

Here’s the truth: you aren't behind. You are at the pace of grace. 

So be mindful of the voices around you—choose the ones that speak life, not pressure. And remember: The deepest transformations do not happen through urgency.

Trust the timing.
Celebrate the small jumps.