You know that “high” you get when you do something that takes some guts?
I’m not talking about super duper big things (although those are good too…read here for more on that. I like getting out of my comfort zone every once in a while). I’m talking more about things like how as the shyest teenager on the planet years ago, it was so exhilarating to me when I finally got up the guts to go talk to a teacher about a grade I was worried about at school. I felt like I had conquered the world. Or when I talked myself into trying out for something…a school officer, cheer-leading, etc. Whether I “made it” or not, I had done something a little tougher than I was used to and I always ended up being glad in the end, whether or not the process was agonizing.
I think maybe that’s why I love roller-coasters so so much: because riding on a roller-coaster pushes me a little out of my little realm of comfort…it scares me a little. Maybe it’s good to be scared in life a little bit…face the unknown.
Anyway, I bring this up because this year our traditional trip to Bloomington Lake (up in the mountains about 45 minutes from where we stay at Bear Lake) ended up taking some guts.
But this year, this was the view from that exact same spot:
Yeah, that is ice covering a good portion of the lake’s surface. Summer was so slow in making it’s grand entrance this year that all that ice had hardly had a chance to give way to the crystal clear lake below.
This is how it usually looks up there:
It honestly takes my breath away it is so gorgeous.
Taking into consideration all the rain this spring I was bracing myself for some serious knock-you-out-with-beauty vistas. I figured it would be the most vibrant trip to date.
The paths up to the lake usually look like this:
But this year, this was what we got:
Poor little flowers were trying their darnedest to poke their heads up through the snow.
It was cold.
But still beautiful…
My heart jumped when I saw that lake at the top still half-way frozen over. Because I knew I still had to do it: I still had to do the rope swing. Because I always do. The jump is always scary yet invigorating. (And plus I want my kids to see me do hard things so they will too.)
When we got to the top of the lake we found that the rope swing was broken. It was all wound up in the tallest branches of the tree that holds it. Irretrievable.
My words said “darn it,” but inside my heart celebrated.
At least I had planned on doing it, right? Too bad that circumstances out of my control barred the way to my rope swing glory this year. “Too bad, so sad.” I thought to myself. “Now let’s go take some more pictures.”
Until someone stated the obvious: we didn’t need a rope swing to get in the water.
And then the peer pressure sunk in.
We had to do it. A few of us picked our spots and counted down on the side.
And then counted down again to help get our guts up a little more.
And then, just like that, we did it. We embraced the challenge and we dove right into that ice water.
And then we shot out of there lickety-split. I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen any of us move that fast before.
But I had no idea how it would make it feel like every cell in my body was cracking in half in combustion of being so shocked with ice.
As we looked at each other in wonder of how much colder it was than we could have even imagined it being, this sense of accomplishment began to grow. It showed in our huge smiles. We had just done something tough.
And it was invigorating.
How I hope I can embrace little things like that in life to give me and my family that little nudge. That little push to dig a little deeper or reach a little further.
Because there’s nothing like doing something that takes some guts every once in a while to help life feel that much more fulfilling.