I’ve been tagged twice in the last few weeks … and since I’ve always been a sucker for filling out surveys, I can’t help myself. Even if I’m only, what, a month behind. Maybe two. <\/p>\n
The first tag is to list seven wild things about yourself. Wild. Grow up as a Mennonite girl. Try to fit wild into that. Ok, you can stop laughing now. Somehow I equate wild with evil behavior. Not that I’ve been an angel, but you know, I mean, really naughty. And that’s not me. But then I looked up a few synonyms: insane. self-willed, riotous, unrestrained, uncontrollable. reckless, rash, … I kind of bet my mom said some of those words about me more than a few times. And apparently there were others who thought I was “wild” judging by the anonymous letter David received soon after we started dating warning him not to pursue a relationship with me. I will forever be grateful to my father-in-law who said that an opinion sent anonymously doesn’t hold full merit because it can’t be validated.<\/p>\n
At any rate, my “wild” list probably borders more on a less than thrilling “unusual” list since most of the time, I was more like Curious George. Really not meaning to get into so much trouble. <\/p>\n
1. When I was 13 my family hosted an enormous extended family gathering in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Think great aunts and uncles and second cousins you’ve never met. Many of us hiked Humpback Rock, a moderately strenuous hike, including my 62 (?I think?) year old great aunt who hiked it in pantyhose and dress shoes. I did not come by my spunkiness illegally. After we’d been up for a few minutes and climbed around on jetting rocks that would have given my mom heart attacks had she been there, I had the wild idea to start back down on our own. I was just a little too cocky and liked being in charge just a little bit too much. Dad asked if I knew how to get back down (of COURSE I did … I’d been up Humpback once before that summer) and six or seven of us started off. I was the oldest with an entourage of best friend first cousins and two second cousins who were five and six and adored us because we adored them. My great aunt (the one in the dress shoes) silently became the caboose to our little party. We tramped down the trail with wild abandon feeling cooler than cool and larger than real life and very grown up. After about a mile, it seemed as though we should be getting to where the old trail and the new trail divided. But we didn’t. I didn’t really want anyone to know I was dubious, because well, that would make me look dumb. We walked. And walked. And walked. And walked. The real trail is just shy of a mile. And not until I reached an open clearing that was definitely unfamiliar did I admit that I’d gone very, very wrong. We turned around. By now Esther and I were taking turns carrying the five year old. My great aunt didn’t say a word, just quietly turned around and followed us. By the time we reached the top of Humpback, no one had any energy to talk or to laugh. We were all tired. I wasn’t scared, but definitely wondering if I was going to get into trouble. We were terribly thirsty. The Appalachian trail runs past Humpback and I’d glibly walked right onto it instead of heading in the right direction. We’d barely started down the correct trail before we heard people yelling our names. People we knew. And water. Turns out my dad had alerted the park rangers and they were getting ready to start a search. Esther and I happily handed Bobbi off to her dad to carry and we all hiked to the bottom. According to someone’s estimation, we hiked well over seven miles. I was pretty proud of myself at the end of the day for how far we hiked carrying someone, but looking back, my great aunt is my hero. She never once complained or scolded us. I can’t even imagine how terribly sore she must have been the next day. The other unsung heros are my cousins who did not know me and who never said one word to me about being irresponsible with their precious, way too young for that, daughters. To this day I can see the look on dad’s face when I ran the last thirty feet off the mountain and the tone in my mom’s voice when she saw me (she was in charge and had to go back to cook for the group not knowing where we were). And yes, I still look twice every time I start down off that mountain. <\/p>\n
2. Just before I turned twelve my parents sold their darling cape cod house in SC and moved into a teeny tiny single wide trailer while they decided where they were going to move. Most of our belongings went into a small storage area between the ceiling of the school library and the much higher ceiling of the school gym. It was an old school building with wooden floors and dad propped a ladder against the wall to the space approximately twelve feet off the ground. Mom was the organizer of boxes at the bottom, dad carried them up the ladder, and I shoved them back against the wall to make room for more. It was a great system and I loved the little adrenalin rush. To keep the excitement level a little higher, I took frequent drink breaks because of course that meant going up and down the ladder which was far more thrilling than just sitting in a space twelve feet off the ground with an open ledge. The edges of the ladder stuck up past the floor of the space a good bit and on one trip I mistakenly pressed too hard with my hands before putting enough weight on with my foot. The top of the ladder went in, the bottom of the ladder went out, and then both the ladder and I took a wild, fast ride down. I sprained an ankle, broke a foot (which the doctor didn’t catch at the time), but of bigger significance developed more than a little fear of heights.<\/p>\n
3. I’ve had three brain concussions. I love reading medical research about how multiple head injuries are linked to degenerative brain disease later in life. (heavy sarcasm alert)<\/p>\n
4. I’ve gone parasailing in FL and rode a skycoaster in Virginia Beach. I fully intended to go skydiving until I became a mom. My inner wild child left with the exit of that first placenta.<\/p>\n
5. When I was a brand-new RN on orientation, I had the coolest mentor ever. She taught me a dozen survival skills for the CCU, and set up fascinating experiences. The best was when she called a surgeon and set up a day for me to watch open heart surgery. I’m not kidding. Not only did I stand beside the bed and watch them crank those ribs apart, the surgeon let me hold the heart so he could stitch the bypass on the back of it. And then when it was time to get that heart restarted, he let me hold the internal defibrillator paddles. I am still in awe.<\/p>\n
6. I’m kind of looking forward to having a mid-life crisis …. at least if it means I get to drive the bright red little Mazda Miata convertible I dreamed of in my twenties.<\/p>\n
7. In the past year it feels as though I have been learning so, so much more about God and what it means to be one of His children. I hope that someday soon I will be able to put some of this into words. For now, I’m still just thinking about it in my heart and trying to learn all I can. What I do know is that in many ways this feels like the wildest and most incredible ride of my life. I have rarely lived with my hands this wide open or with this many unknowns in my future. I have never lived with my hands this wide open, this many unknowns, and simultaneously felt so incredibly at rest. And about all I can say about that is “thank you, Jesus.” Over and over. I feel so excited about our future and that is completely a gift from God.<\/p>\n
And now, I was supposed to tag a few people, but it’s been so long I can’t remember who did this and who didn’t since I procrastinated too long. Just humor me and leave me one “wild” thing about yourself. Please? It would make my day!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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