July 9th,
2001
New Jersey –
Somewhere over the Atlantic
I
had taken a trip to Europe in 1999, where I bought a Eurail pass and
traveled through 13 countries in a two-month whirlwind tour with a friend. By the end, I concocted a bigger and better
plan for my return. I wanted to be able
to travel without the obligations of work or school, and without the constraint
of time and money. In a distant plan
that I never dared to voice to anyone, I had hoped to spend a two months in
each country, one month working, the second month traveling – while learning
the language fluently of course – but more than anything, I wanted the freedom
to move, discover, and imagine.
As
my date for departure drew near, I began to feel less and less prepared. There was something comforting about the
familiar. Bilbo Baggins in J.R.R.
Tolkein’s The Hobbit was on the brink of his great adventure and fear
crept up on him and he would long for his hobbit hole where a rocking chair sat
in front of a warm fire.
In
retrospect, maybe I hadn’t moved as far as I thought when I came to New Jersey;
I had only moved from one family of seven to another seven – a mom and dad, two
kids, a dog, and two cats. The children
had grown to become my siblings, and their parents, my surrogates. I was ending a segment of my life
distinctively, the kids finishing school, me finishing college and my job as
their caretaker.
People
thought I was brave to now travel Europe alone, but I no longer felt like
bravery had a whole lot to do with my decision.
July 5th, 2001 I sat in Oklahoma City Airport with my mom and
dad – crying. Is it the insinuation of
the word “terminal” that invokes emotional crises just before boarding a
plane?
My
parents were unnervingly supportive of my independence – but I was feeling
pretty much finished with this whole independent phase – feeling more than
ready to return under the sheltering wing of my parents’ household. No longer could I see adventure, rather it
was self-indulgent wandering. There were
so many other things I could do – Should I be volunteering in a Third World
country instead? At this point, anything could have qualified as an
adventure. I could pursue a career
through the contacts I had made in New Jersey, return to school, return home to
Minnesota and spend time with my family, or even remain with my newborn nephew
here in Oklahoma City. I had the world
in front of me and I was choosing to travel Europe?
Yet
if Bilbo hadn’t left, he would have never learned of his capacity for
courage.
Fear
sneaks into decisions and struggles often dissuading risk taking. There are days I wished I never left the
safety under my parent’s roof. I credit
much of my so-called bravery to my confidence in the love and faith of my
family. It is because of their
expressive support and belief in a Father whose eyes are all-reaching, that I
never feel far away.
The
following entries were the letters I wrote home to family, so they could see
too.
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