Cannonball

Growing up in my neighborhood, my brother and I—along with the other kids on our block—would inevitably find ourselves at the community pool during the hot summer months, cooling off and messing around on lazy afternoons.

I must be missing the sunshine here in January, because I find myself daydreaming about summer fun in the middle of winter.

I always looked forward to going to the recreation center—not just for the fun, but for the concession stand. I’d squirrel together all my nickels and dimes from returning pop bottles at the corner Pony Keg so I could buy Sweet Tarts, Chocolate French Chews, and Styrofoam cups of root beer. That’s what summer tasted like in those days.

My friends and I stayed waterlogged all afternoon, climbing out only long enough to stuff our mouths with snacks. The lifeguard continually tooted the whistle, warning us to walk on the deck or calm down in the pool, but that was just part of the experience.

By far, the greatest fun was taking turns doing cannonballs off the diving boards. We were forever rating how high our splashes were, each of us trying to outdo the others. None of us had much body mass, but with practice we discovered that the right technique could make even the smallest kid displace a surprising amount of water.

Still, the most coveted prize of our community pool adventures was finding an unsuspecting sunbather lying precariously close to the pool’s edge. Once we identified our next “victim,” we’d casually climb out, saunter nearby, and silently count on our fingers—one, two, three—before running, leaping, and screaming, “Cannonball!” We hoped to slosh the sunbather and anyone else unfortunate enough to be nearby.

We’d pop up laughing our heads off, usually to sharp tweets from the lifeguard and yelps from the affected parties. But we didn’t care. It was worth the momentary hero-ship that followed, even if it meant sitting out under the lifeguard stand until the next free swim. Our little neighborhood gang took great pleasure in seeing who we could get wet, and we’d gladly return the next afternoon to do it all over again.

Now that I’m older, I still think it’s fun—but I realize it’s more fun to give than to receive.

The One who knows you the best loves you the most

Well, the Geverdt family has experienced the splash effect of an unforeseen “cannonball” this past season. Many of you know that Jen has been undergoing treatment for the reemergence of cancer she beat many years ago. That treatment had been quite successful for over six years, but late in 2025 there was a resurgence that thrust her back into more active treatment.

Like the cannonball splashes we once laughingly delivered to unsuspecting sunbathers, we’ve been hit with circumstances we didn’t see coming. In light of these stark realities, we’ve ramped up prayer support and begun several recommended treatments. Much is still unknown, and there are other factors to consider, so we’re living each day with new priorities. These aren’t the New Year’s resolutions we had planned, but they are the assignment we’ve been given.

It feels as though, through no fault of our own, the lifeguard has blown the whistle and called us to the side for a while. But there’s always another free swim coming. We’re going to be fine, because our hearts and minds are set on—and hidden in—Him (Colossians 3:1–4). The same is true for all whose hope rests in Christ.

As I said, it’s more fun to make a splash than to be sloshed by one. Life is a lot like living near a pool: everyone gets wet sometimes. Jesus said, “In this life you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). So, we welcome 2026 differently—but we live it the same way.

Are you splashing, or being splashed? If you haven’t weathered a cannonball lately, you will someday—it’s promised. The heavenly prescription is to set your mind on things above and to take heart. The One who knows you best loves you the most.

Blessings, 
Rusty