Potentially Dangerous... Everything

Silence can be downright magical. Unfortunately, there is little silence in raising teenagers, or in planning a year-long trip around the continent. Aside from all the tasks involved with getting this incredibly slow-moving train going in the right direction there is the everyday bustle of homeschooling, co-ops, lessons, laundry, and everything in between. The last few weeks have been a wild ride and we all needed a break. Their grandparents were delighted to have the kids come for a visit and I took the opportunity to dive into some trip planning.

I’ve been elbow deep in maps, routes, budgets, and calendars. This is one of the most exciting parts of the process for me. I guess I take after my dad, who loved to sit and pour over maps (actual PAPER maps) and dream of all the places he would go on his next trip. I’ve been everywhere from Florida to California this weekend and it has been glorious…except for one thing: Why is it necessary to warn of EVERY danger that can be found in a particular place? I mean, if I’m visiting the desert I am going to assume there are at least some snakes living there. Going to the mountains? yep…bears. Swamp? Alligators. This isn’t exactly one of life’s biggest mysteries. Yet just as I think I’ve found the most stunning place to camp, hike, or paddle I find the warning right there in clear print listing every danger that lurks there. While I was dreamily trying to make a reservation just moments before, I am now wondering if we should even visit at all. My mind is suddenly swirling with all the “what ifs.” After perusing potential plans all day, I feel the strong urge to barricade myself and my kids in the house with my false sense of security and forget the whole trip all together. I only need to drive around my neighborhood to be reminded of the fallacy of my thinking. Formerly intact roofs now create the final resting places for large trees, telling a story of weakness and vulnerability where a fortress once stood. The latest springtime storm has taken its toll and reminded me that buildings sometimes crumble.

I’ve known from the beginning that fear would be one of my greatest struggles on this adventure. I possess a fair amount of fear and one legitimate phobia (can phobias even be legitimate?) and I suspect I will face most of them over the course of the year. Jim knows this about me, and he is very aware that my tendency to think ahead, which I like to think of as a gift, will sometimes cause me to balk at certain opportunities. I also have the gift of creating in my mind every single negative thing that can happen in a situation, yet I want my kids to do all the things. I want them to try surfing, scuba diving, mountain biking. I want to paddle to sea caves and climb to mountain peaks with them. I want to travel desert roads in the middle of nowhere and venture into unknown areas. But admittedly, watching my kids take on those “dangers” brings me more than a little angst. Thrown on top is the fact that Jim isn’t afraid of anything, and we often find ourselves at odds with what we each define as “acceptable” risk.

Over the course of our many adventures through the years, we have come into contact with a fair amount of unexpected “what ifs” that materialized before us, including bears, alligators, sharks and snakes to name a few. Ironically, the one incident that left us scrambling for a hospital occurred in my own backyard. Remember what I said earlier about a false sense of security? We don’t exactly live in the wild here. I can literally stand on my deck and throw a rock into my neighbor’s pool, but this is where my son decided he must touch that “beautiful” snake by the deck. Yes, the one that turned out to be a copperhead and led to an overnight stay in the hospital and 4 vials of anti-venom. ALL those conversations about NOT touching snakes until we had properly identified the type had gone completely out the window. Our preparations and warnings were no match for the overwhelming power of the two-year old mind of a curious little boy--our “building” had crumbled.

I can prepare until the cows come home, and I WILL indeed do just that, but try as I may I am unable to protect my kids from everything. I can’t think far enough in advance, prepare enough, or avoid enough things to 100% ensure their safety. Thus, I’m faced with a choice: I can lock myself in my “crumbling” house and choose a false sense of safety, or I can CHOOSE to invite adventure into my heart. I can CHOOSE to lay down my anxieties and allow my family to explore unhindered by my limitations. I can CHOOSE to focus on what we could gain from these experiences instead of what we could lose. Make no mistake, those fears will rise to taunt me again another day. Jim and I will likely have at least ONE more fight about what the kids should or should not be allowed to do, but I will work to push those fears back down again, and Jim will work to compromise his all-in attitude for the sake of my sanity. We will step into the boat, ride the surfboard, and venture into the woods. I’ll prepare, read about safety precautions and learn all I can, but at the end of the day, I’ll throw some bear spray in my bag, take a deep breath, say a prayer, open the door and step out into the wild.