I’m pretty much a homebody whose idea of a fun afternoon is watching movies, reading books, and playing around on the piano. I’m not much of a thrill-seeker. But, there was this one time I went cliff jumping, and it was pretty fun.

It was back in college, and I was in Mexico swimming in a little cave pool called a cenote. Top open to the sky, but still protected from the summer heat. It was pretty cool. And, there was a little cliff you could jump off of.

Well, the cliff looked little from below, but once I was standing on the top of it, my heart started pounding. Logically, I didn’t think I should feel that scared, but I couldn’t help it. I did.

A group of us girls had decided to jump off the cliff together, and the ringleader suggested we all hold hands. Peering over the edge of the cliff, I was still trying to slow down my breathing and process what I was about to do when she said,

“Let’s jump on three! One, two, three!”

It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I didn’t feel ready. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen or why I felt so scared, but I knew I had to jump on three or risk being yanked down painfully by my friend and having all of us crash into the water or into rocks in an unpleasant fashion. So I threw out all my feelings and thoughts and just jumped.

And it felt amazing.

Thinking back on the experience, it strikes me how much bolder you can become when you know someone is holding your hand. That particular hand-holding was more peer pressure than reassurance, but whether the hand grasping mine is pulling me or steadying me, it can fill me with courage I never knew I had.

Sometimes life feels like a series of cliff jumps. You’d think the jumps would get easier with experience, but every time, I get a fresh rush of adrenaline. Every time, I feel unprepared. I peer over the edge, trying to process what is happening, when the Person holding my hand suddenly yells, “Jump!”

And when I do, I experience the most exhilarating feeling.