There is two sides to every adventure. There’s the side you tell everyone when you return, and there’s the side that actually happened. Of course the one that you tell everyone will have much more vivid detail—now, whether or not that vivid detail is true, well I guess that’s part of the fun because the listener has to pick and pull at the story to figure out what you actually did. These adventures that you tell are the adventures you go out and find. The ones that extend late into the night. The ones where you physically go somewhere like to running through the woods that’s knee deep in dead leaves and rotting fallen tree limbs away from chasing dogs. These adventures are the ones that build adrenaline when you return to the mundane routine the next day and leaving to you expectantly wait to get off work or get out of class so that you can go have another adventure.
For a period of time, it seemed like I was addicted to the high of adventures. Every day was a real life version of Phieas and Ferb. “What are we going to do today?” What invention will we build, what stone needs to be unturned, what will we accomplish today? After this phase though, I went into college ready to grow up and leave those adventures behind. You cannot go check out an abandoned dorm when you have studying to do. You cannot drive for miles without a destination when you are on a limited college budget. I must be responsible; I must be consistent. Adventures cannot interrupt my schedule anymore.
But the enticing life of adventures began to look all too desirable after days of the endless conversation of what to watch on Netflix with too many “boring” people. When all my time was spent indoors staring at computer screens or staring at a textbook or staring at someone who droned on about them staring at computer screens or textbooks, I began to look for adventures. The itch to be outside and to be anywhere but the present place I was became overwhelming to me. I could not remember what happened between leaving for work in the mornings and exiting the classrooms in the afternoons. The information, the people, and the events meant very little to me because it was uninteresting. I had to go on my adventures. This is what was exciting.
Is this what life is? A string of adventures, and we are doing one of two things: adventuring or waiting. No, I do not believe life is a string of adventures but one big adventure itself. These adventures, the adventures of everyday life, deal with people and relationships not so much sprinting from angry dogs. In conversation, you can go very remote places without stepping a foot out the door. You can build a third world space where there are only two inhabitiants. It can became a familiar space where you can control what happens. If life is the adventure, relationships and people are what we explore. We could explore places, but what is the point if we do not have someone to experience the memory with us?
When all your adventures are made up of doing, you miss out on impacting lives. And yes, there are waterfalls to discover, food to eat, and doors to unlock, but if you have adventures because you are convinced that your life is so “mundane” filled with “mundane” people who do nothing but talk about Ramon, look at the people around you. Is it you or them that is making your life so boring? (Here, I’ll give you a hint: it’s most likely you). Everyone likes to think that they are more special than the next person. I am sure Stephen Hawkins thinks that he is quite special because he is so intelligent, but did he make the best snicker doodle cookies last night with buttercream icing? Nope, that was me. I believe each of us can do something no one else we come into contact with can do. This is my challenge to you: prove me wrong. Live life with people and find out all those weird quirks and secret talents they have—and if you find someone who is exactly like someone else, then you win. I just might send you a snicker doodle cookie.
The funny thing about adventures, no matter what kind, they always leave you wishing for another one. That is why Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin felt weird being back in the Shire after their unexpected adventure with the Ring of Power. Because adventures do something to you along the way that changes your perspective. And once it’s changed, it’s desperately difficult to change it back. And because of this change, you remember the adventure. I find the same with people. People can change your whole perspective. People can make you feel things that never made sense to you before. You can feel love or hate or frustration or compassion. You can understand why things hurt you the way they do or why you just don’t care. People have a way to reaching into your soul and touching you in way that no one can. This is why I love people and why I gave up a life of adventures and pleasing myself to surrender to a God Who allows me to love people who can have such impact on me. And why I believe no one is so undeserving of the gospel because each of us was made by Him and for Him.
This was my answer when I was asked why I believe in people.
I believe in adventures and in people and in wearing converse with skirts and in wet willies. If you believe in the same things…keep reading and I will keep posting—eventually!