Yesterday I shared that Oaks and I had gone back to the creek to check on the little shelter we built a while back. This picture was from the day we built the shelter. It was a hot and sticky day, but we needed to kill some time. So we bumped over the curb and mowed over the tall brush that leads to the path by the creek. We scaled down the creek bed wall and into the sandy shores of the creek.
As always, it was beautiful and serene.
The sounds of birds chirping and water running over the rocks is about all you can hear down there. Even though it’s peaceful, I try not to let him get too far out of sight around the bends because after all, we’re intruding on the watering hole for all the animals in the woodland lining the creek. So while he’s trodding happily along, I’m following, not too far behind, paying more attention to all the different animal prints in the rocky sand than to his. Suddenly, I took two, seemingly harmless steps (in his exact path!) and started to sink.
Apparently, I weigh a little more than he does.
Before I even realized what was happening, I was knee deep in this strange quicksand type of mud, that we’ve become all too familiar with. My jeep has been stuck in it. We’ve lost many a boot, sucked in by it. And shared many a stressful moment, trying to figure out how in the world to get out.
As a result, as soon as I felt myself sinking, I knew what to do.
My heart raced a little as I turned and grabbed at the branches of the nearest tree, until I found one that would hold me. In record speed, I was able to pull myself out, mostly before Oaks even realized anything had gone awry. When he came back, he laughed so hard at my mud-covered legs saying, “Oh yeah, there was a soft spot there. I went over it really quickly.” (Thanks for the heads up babe! Appreciate ya.)
The moral of the story?
The mud didn’t kill me. It scared me. I got me really dirty. It reminded me of the pitfalls of the journey. But will it keep me from exploring the creek with the boys? No way.
Life is full of surprises.
There is no way to insulate yourself from what might happen around the bend. You can plan ahead. You can read all the books, watch the YouTube tutorials, and listen to all the podcasts, to figure out how it’s done. You can chart your course. You can pay close attention to all the details. You can travel in pairs. You can bring ropes, anchors and all the emergency gear.
But you can’t plan your way to safety.
If you want to move forward, if you want to make a difference, you will eventually have to travel a road that you’ve never been down. You’ll have to learn by experience. You’ll have to get dirty. You’ll have to risk stepping in a sink hole that no one warned you was there. Will it always be fun? Sadly, probably not.
Will it be worth it?
You can bet your muddy feet on it.
Staying in safety of your comfort zone won’t take you where you really want to go.
Grab a rope, and a friend.
And get going.
to more love,