I got a shot today. I would complain, but after the 1000s of injections I've given over the past few years (really) I suppose it's just karma. I also cut the tip of my finger opening the pork roast I made for dinner and am now wondering why I decided to type... Huh...
Ian and I made a spontaneous trip home this weekend. I got to spend one-on-one time with everyone in my family and it was fantastic. I am blessed with the most amazing siblings and parents a girl could ask for. And I even got a shopping trip out of the deal.
We went 4-wheeling on Monday with my in-laws. Well, before I tell you this story, I have to tell you a different one. I don't even remember all the details really. It was while my parents were in Lake Powell, and for some reason or another, my dad told my mom that she was "no fun". So my mom went crying to my uncle (her older brother) and said, "Jeff says I'm no fun." All he had to say was, "Well, yeah." Ok, so I don't know if I told that story even remotely correctly, but the point is that it has been established in my family as a joke that Mom is no fun. Well, I'm my mother's daughter. I am no fun. I like to ride 4-wheelers, but only if the trail is level and we don't go faster than 20 MPH.
So, here we are headed up this trail that gets progressively more rocky and has big divots from where it was likely a 4WD truck had been before us. It wouldn't have been so bad, but we kept having to go over them at a 45-degree angle. Now, it doesn't matter how stable it really is or how far I lean the opposite direction, I always feel like we're going to tip over. I finally had enough and told Ian I was walking the 8 miles back to the car. It didn't matter how irrational that was at that point, I was ruining all the fun and I wanted to leave. Ian and his dad finished the climb to the top of the mountain, and I sat in the dirt and sulked. He turned around after taking in the view from the top, which I learned wasn't that far from where we were, and insisted I get back on. I refused, so he let me walk down to the less scary part, assured me I was not ruining the fun, and we headed to a different trail.
We got back on the easier trail, switched places so that I was driving, and I ended the day on a better note. I thought about that experience as I was touring through the dust, and I made an important connection (it seems like spiritual connections happen a lot when your adrenaline is running high). It's a little cliche as I type it, but I thought about how the trail is like life. Of course we would prefer the easy parts where we can coast along with our hand barely on the throttle, but often we find ourselves climbing a big scary hill. When that happens, we have two choices: we can be Ian in this situation, and make the best of the ride until we can get to the top and enjoy the view, or we can be me and give up, turn back and feel sorry for ourselves. I thought about how tragic it would be if while we're watching our life movie on judgement day, we realize how close we came to the top, only to turn around and walk back. I realized again how essential it is to call on the powers of heaven, and get to the top, even if it scares the living daylights out of you.
Well, except when it comes to 4-wheeling. I'm not doing that nastiness again.