My husband and I did a big bucket-list thing a few weeks ago. We went on a hot-air balloon ride. Though we both had wanted to do this for many years, when it got to the day before the trip, I found I’d become a basket case of anxiety, googling on the computer to see how often people died in balloon crashes. I was at war with myself until we walked onto the launch field. Do it. Don’t do it. Take the risk and maybe die. Don’t take the risk and wonder for the rest of your life. As the crew inflated the balloon, we watched with the other passengers. An amiable and enthusiastic couple sat beside us. They’d made a 7-hour trip on a motorcycle from Nebraska to northern Illinois just for this experience. In the morning, they would turn around to head back home. Their smiles and excitement were contagious, and I soon felt my fears dissipate. I didn’t want to ruin this moment. I wanted to be more like them and embrace the adventure. And with the snap of a finger, I released my anxiety, in much the way our balloon lifted away from the ground to be carried by the wind. I’m so glad I let go of the worry and grateful for these optimistic souls traveling on the same path. The balloon ride was one of the loveliest experiences I’ve ever had. It was soothing and serene. Floating gently high above the ground offered incredible views of the rural scenery. I could imagine staying there forever, climbing higher, until maybe one-day finding heaven.
I am such a mixture of my mother’s and father’s personalities. Mom was a homebody with many fears and often tried hard to persuade people not to do things if it created anxiety for her. But Dad, on the other hand, was a risk-taker who always wanted to see and do more. How two such different personalities could be happily married for so long is anybody’s guess. But they were an excellent team, one balancing the other and keeping things in check. My Dad’s risk-taking and exploring ways are a big part of my early memories.
He taught us kids to swim, and ride bikes, took us sledding on giant, steep hills, built us forts and tree swings, bought us go-carts, took us to caves, and ensured we saw the ocean and mountains.
He encouraged us to get out into the world and discover its secrets. His own desires to chase wonders were significantly altered when he was diagnosed with Lupus in his late 40s. In the years that followed, not only did he deal with painful Lupus flair-ups and complications from having a weakened immune system, but he also became a hemophiliac and desperately needed a hip replacement but couldn’t have the surgery due to multiple health issues. His dreams of travel were dashed as he eventually became homebound. I think of my Dad whenever I feel wanderlust or want to do something risky. While I might hear my mother’s voice telling me all the dangerous things in the world, I also think of my Dad and how much more he’d longed to do and couldn’t. So, often, I take the risks he couldn’t and push myself through the anxiety to have new experiences. So far, I have never had any regrets.
If chasing wonder is something we are genetically predisposed to, my daughter and at least one of my granddaughters have inherited this trait. Recently, my granddaughter celebrated her 12th birthday, and her birthday wish was to don a wet suit, climb into a cage, and be immersed in a shark-filled aquarium.
This would be too risky for me, but her parents felt she was with professionals and the circumstances were safe, so it happened. She assured me later that it was an entirely secure and highly controlled experience.
And I could tell from her account of the experience that it was something she’d never forget.
So, here’s to you, Dad! Happy Father’s Day. Your love for adventure lives on in your family. Thank you for encouraging our curiosity. We miss you so much, and you’re with us in all that we do.
For a sweet book about chasing wonder to share with a child, check out Dan Yaccarino’s Doug Unplugged. You can learn more about it in the Recommended Reads section of my blog.
Little Seeds Read 