In my youth, I was a worrier. In my young adulthood, I was a worrier. In my early parenthood, I was a worrier. I don’t remember a time in my life that did not excessively worry.
So I did not go on that trip to D.C., nor did I go on a mission trip or study abroad during college. There was a time right after law school that I wanted to practice in another country and be a useful part of the local church in that place. But I didn’t pursue it.
My family on the other hand, well, they are adventurous. My parents took a 100% traveling job while I was in college. The lived in an RV and traveled the contiguous U.S. and Canada. They worried me.
My sister went on Let’s Start Talking campaigns and studied for a semester in South America during her college tenure. Then, right after she married, she moved to Seattle. She has traveled alone, with friends, and with her nuclear family to faraway places. She worried me.
My brother and his family also traveled a bit but knew how to take an adventure in their own backyard, so to speak, through hunting and rodeo and all manner of hijinks. They worried me.
My husband played for his high school band, traveling to Europe to tour. He also toured a bit in college with the band. He is competitive and loves being active. He has often talked of skydiving, hang gliding, base jumping, and the like. He adores rollercoasters. He worried me.
And then, this year, I said I was fearless. And I became certainly more fearless than I had once been. Big spiders, man, they’re impossible.
About a week after I first said I was fearless, I found myself daydreaming about adventures. I thought with longing about traveling to distant shores. I imagined mountain climbing, learning to swim, doing cool stuff in cool places. Now I consider things like scuba diving and instead of paralyzing fear, I feel fascinated, intrigued, eager.
I also wonder whether I would actually follow through if I had these opportunities. I believe I would. More importantly, I’d like to find out.
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