The flying leap
Taking a risk used to be easy for me. I’m kind of a natural-born risk taker, but I don’t say that as if it’s something to aspire to. I’ve made plenty of dumb mistakes in the name of taking a risk; learning to temper risk with wisdom has been a lifelong pursuit.
I find that these days, I’m less excited about taking risks… I still love adventure, excitement, change, and all that, but I find that the potential costs are getting bigger and bigger. Case in point: pulling a muscle in my back while playing on the slip-n-slide with my daughter. Small risk, right? These are fun! Famous last words… And lest you think, Hey – you’re getting old! – I remember getting pretty bruised up on those things back when I was a kid, too. I remembered that after my recent experience.
My husband’s aunt came to visit not too long ago, and after watching our kids for a bit, she told me how similar my husband was when he was a kid. She said, He would stand on the kitchen counter and just leap off into the air, just sure someone would catch him. You might be glad to know that neither my husband nor my kids currently do this, but it did go a long ways to explaining some things…
Part of the child-like faith I want to keep (or return to) is the willingness to trust at that level. Sure, flying off of kitchen counters is ill-advised, but there will be things God will ask me to do that will probably seem just as crazy. I want to be ready.
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