Someone once told me that courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to move ahead in spite of it. I’m still not sure if that is true or not, but I did something this weekend that I’m very proud of. I faced a deep seated fear head on and experienced something wonderful because of it.
For those loyal readers who are not aware of my history, let me fill you in a little. I love my mother, she is my best friend, but I am and always have been a Daddy’s girl. Growing up we did everything together. We watched football on Sundays and he didn’t even flinch (at least not that I saw) when I declared at an early age that I was a Seahawks fan. I taught myself how to play the guitar after watching him and his friend Walt laugh, play, and sing on warm summer evenings. He was even one of the few people who I would let read some of my earlier writing projects. He was always very supportive, but provided constructive criticism at the same time. He believed in me when I didn’t always believe in myself. He taught me that there is nothing I can’t do, if I’m only willing to try. That’s a lesson I’ve seemed to have forgotten in the last few years.
Four years ago on July 3rd, 2007 my father died as a result of a four wheeler accident. My father, my mother, and my dad’s best friend, Wally had gone into the town of Cinnabar on 4 wheelers that morning, a trip that Dad had wanted me to go on with him, but I was too busy with other things to go at the time. At about 3:30 that afternoon my co-worker Renae intercepted a phone call that would change my life forever. Having a very vivid imagination I could easily picture in great detail the entire event. And, unfortunately, I did just that over and over again. Ever since that day I have had a secret fear of the vehicle that killed my father. I swore to myself that I would NEVER ride one again, no matter how much fun I’d had in the past.
Earlier this week my Mom called and told me that Wally had access to a spare 4 wheeler and wanted to take me up the very same trail that she and my dad had traveled the day he died. Most of you know that I am a very superstitious person so the thought of taking that same trip on the same type of machine was terrifying to me! But, really, how could I say no? Am I that much of a coward that I would turn down what might be the last opportunity to see the land that my father had seen just before he left this earth? How disappointed would I be in myself if I let fear dictate what I did and where I went? Add to that the fact that it was my Dad’s best friend that wanted me to go and you can see my dilemma.
Was I afraid?
Yes, absolutely terrified.
Did I let it stop me?
No.
And for that I am so proud of myself.
I faced down that fear and had a wonderful day. I saw parts of the world that most people will never see and did things I never thought were possible for me. If you are a friend of mine on Facebook you can see some of the “Top of the World” pictures that show where we went on Friday. There were times out on that trail that I questioned my sanity as I crossed streams and spun tires out on steep hillsides. There was at least one part of the trail where I learned the meaning of the term “don’t look down” and I wondered just how much it would hurt if “Ole Blue” rolled over on top of me as we tumbled down the mountainside. But in the end I made it to the top of the world and back.
I faced my fear and experienced something wonderful because of it.
I don’t know if that qualifies as “courage” but it is close enough in my book.
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