Marshmallow Courage

Today I feel like I'm walking on the rim of a ferocious volcano, with red hot lava spitting up at me as I twirl and dance, holding my balance simply by staying in motion. I've been afraid of falling into the pit for so long, and I've avoiding hiking up the volcano for years because I know that a fall is possible - even inevitable.

My younger sister, a brave and bold traveler of this planet, just returned from a grand adventure to Guatemala and Costa Rica. My mom and I met her in Minneapolis shortly after she returned, and we were blessed to hear some of the details of her adventure. If she wasn't camping in the rainforest or jumping through a dark hole in some cave with only a candle and her optimism to hold onto, she was talking with strangers, being led to people's homes to see their weavings, and hiking up the side of the Pacayo Volcano.

For those who follow the news, my baby sister hiked up the side of THE volcano that only TWO DAYS later erupted and killed several people. Not only did she hike Pacayo, but she roasted marshmallows over the hot lava.

She is brave in so many ways - and always has been. She has a spontaneous spirit and a bold trust in this universe that I have always admired. She rides the scary rides, follows the rules only until she finds them ridiculous, and has a confidence about her that I can only hope to one day emulate.

So, back to the volcano. Today I've been stressed, anxious, and worried. I have been at this recovery thing - at full speed - for two weeks. I feel like after talking about getting better and planning to "recover" for the past several years, I finally started hiking up the side of my own "volcano." And now... two weeks later, I am standing on the rim and peering into the lava beneath me, terrified of being burned.

Today I was bored. I was stressed about the future and had a difficult time bringing myself back to the present moment. I ate a lot, panicked a lot, and had a DANGEROUS day. A full box of Hot Tamales this afternoon; hamburger, french fries, AND a milk shake for dinner. I am okay; slightly anxious and uncomfortable, but managing it. I feel like today I truly did wobble alongside the rim of this volcano, playing dangerously close to the edge.

And then I realized... what if I took a breath, calmed down, and trusted that I could balance on the edge? What if, instead of freaking out about what MIGHT happen, I took a cue from my little sister and simply made the journey to the rim a grand adventure? What if, instead of running and wobbling along the rim, I stopped to roast marshmallows?

Trusting that I will be okay is a difficult thing for me. Jumping into a dark hole with no assurance of what awaits me sends me into a panic; following a stranger to see their mother's weaving at a small home (in who knows where) makes my heart race. But my sister just jumps. With grace and trust, she knows that everything will work itself out; and if it doesn't, she knows that we aren't in control anyway, and that such worries are senseless.

My body knows what to do and how to regulate itself. Too much food is uncomfortable, but it doesn't have to result in panic. What if, instead, I prayed in thanksgiving for the feast? What if I stopped running scared and brought out the marshmallows instead?

I love telling people that "life's a party, but no one's going to throw it for you." I find myself often saying this to others, but rarely able to take my eyes away from my fear long enough to relax into the party waiting for me. When I think about my sister, it brings me to tears to realize how proud I am that she ALREADY lives this way.

So, my baby sister will be my guide for today (and, probably, forever). I'll grow into some of her boldness and hopefully give her something in return. And maybe one day, we will roast marshmallows over this volcano together, laughing about the journey, and grateful for the feast.