Want to know who you are? Take a look at your kids.

If you ever experience an identity crisis of your own, I recommend having a child. It took me three tries to realize this, but observing your children in motion is like holding a mirror up to your face. Case in point:

My son is a chicken. The list of things he's scared of is a mile long and includes but is not limited to big dogs, heights, the dark, and water. As I watched this trait emerge in him, I grew increasingly frustrated. Sometimes embarrassed (like the time he was the only one of four kids, including a two-year old, who screamed bloody murder when one of them doused the lights while playing in the basement of a friend's house.)

Not one to perpetuate gender stereotypes, I tried not to let it bother me that my boy was more of a scaredy cat than his big sister and, in fact, the aforementioned two-year old neighbor. But it did bother me. And I was particularly peeved by his fear of the water.

Having grown up in the pool and at the lake, I love to swim and have high hopes of scoring a pool in my own backyard some day. It was troubling to me that my son's comfort level with the water maxed out at dipping his feet in, so when my oldest daughter, who adores the water, requested swimming lessons I decided it would be good for her brother to take them as well.

The hilarity of that experience (like the time my brave soldier clung for dear life to a little boy next to him in an effort not to be coaxed off the steps by Mr. Joe the instructor) is fodder for at least two or three posts alone, so I'll stick to my point here. In six weeks, the main thing my son learned is that the instructors wouldn't let him sink. My main takeaway? I'm a coward too.

I'm not afraid of the water, but I am afraid of horses. And big dogs. And taking risks. Like writing this blog, for example. Where's the risk in keeping what amounts to an on-line diary, you ask? I'm afraid of what people will think. Afraid of being judged. Afraid that once I put my thoughts into words I'll find out that I'm really not a very good writer and that I really don't have anything interesting to say.

So after fretting, bribing and seeking advice from my pal who's a child psychologist in an effort to help my son overcome his fear of the water, I began praying. Specifically, I prayed that God would unlock the spirit of boldness and power in my son that we are told in 2 Timothy 1:7 He has given each of us.

Lo and behold, during my son's second-to-last lesson, he showed flashes of boldness, leaping off the side of the pool onto a noodle with the instructor merely standing nearby rather than clinging desperately to the teacher's neck, crying that he wanted to "get on land." My heart felt like it was going to explode I was so proud.

And now I'm praying for the spirit of boldness and power to be unleashed in me. I think it's starting to work.