I began, like quite a lot of you, as the winner of a race, a tiny adventurer headed for that egg in the uteral sky. I plopped out near Frankfurt, Germany (probably not so much like most of you). It didn’t take me long to realize the people around me were spitting a language my parents didn’t spit very well. There was nothing for it: we moved back to the US and the American South, where our drawl would be appreciated.
But I couldn’t stay there.
Had I always longed to travel? Yes. Did I ever say to anyone, “Anyone, I want to see every inch of the world before I die!”? Never. But I knew I’d do it.
Life is an adventure.
I fly a lot. Every time I take off, I bow my head and thank God for the adventure. We all have our rituals, right? Sometimes we can get bogged down in our problems and forget that every second on this earth is an opportunity for adventure. Yeah, I’m repeating the word—adventure—because it makes me happy.
Fifteen years ago I didn’t see life this way. Then one day I started thanking God for the adventure. Problems? Bring ‘em on. They’re all part of the adventure. Risk? Why not? It’s all part of the adventure. Curveballs? Adventure!
Today, as we think about everything we’re thankful for, I encourage you to see life as an adventure. I’m silly—a silly, silly adventurer.
I must be off,