Fear prevents us from living. Fearlessness is a magnificent teacher.
For two eight-year-olds, sledding was the highlight of a surprise snow day. Michelle's father emphatically warned us to not go near the ice-covered creek to the side of the hill. Michelle held the reins at the front of the sled. I manned the rear with my arms around her waist. As her dad gave us a push to start, I realized we were veering toward the creek as Michelle giggled. Shrieking the whole way, half horrified, half excited, I braced myself for the flight over the creek bed where we landed head-first in ice-covered water. No more sledding that day.
Stripped out of dripping wet snowsuits and wrapped in cozy blankets, we played dolls and drank cocoa with marshmallows by the fire. A good end to a day made thrilling by an icy creek.
A few years ago, Michelle and I visited her father who, at the end stage of Huntington's disease, resides in a nursing home. We laughed and recounted that memory to him and in spite of the catatonic state he appears to be in...his eyes lit up and crinkled into what I know was a smile in his eyes. Broken rules can make amazing memories.
But living fearlessly doesn't always mean breaking rules. It can be breaking out of molds or habits. Showing who we are to others. Oftentimes revealing who we really are....to ourselves.
So many people get to the end of their lives with regrets on how they should have lived. The blessing of being diagnosed with a long-term terminal illness is that it provides a motivation for living more abundantly. And the blessing for those who embrace their sick loved one is that we begin to live differently and without fear.
Fearlessness is a magnificent teacher. This book invites you to hop on the sled.
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