It was "come to Jesus" day as we say in the South. Don't like confrontation? Conflict? Facing the task head on? Well then you probably don't like "come to Jesus" day.
I was forced to face reality tonight.
Mixed in with the pork belly, roasted cauliflower and salad on the granite kitchen counter top, were four sheets of white paper. Instead of enjoying family dinner, a Sunday tradition, the four pages with a month printed on each stared me in the face. January, February, March and April. That's it. four. months.
I was forced to face reality tonight.
Mixed in with the pork belly, roasted cauliflower and salad on the granite kitchen counter top, were four sheets of white paper. Instead of enjoying family dinner, a Sunday tradition, the four pages with a month printed on each stared me in the face. January, February, March and April. That's it. four. months.
The reality set in. There's a lot to do! Train, get permits and gear together, sell items- those are just highlights.
My cousin Brooke and her husband James always help me devise plans. Brooke is the structured, detailed, every "t" crossed and "I" dotted person. James is more of a dreamer. Together it's a perfect fit when you need help mapping out a goal you've never dove head first into before.
I just keep remembering "if not now, when?" Nothing exciting and fulfilling in like happens in the comfort zone.
Here. We. Go
Over the weekend, I told my mother my goal to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. I led into the bomb I was about to shake her world with by asking "what all can I sell at a garage sale?" She explained people buy all kinds of stuff and if I set up in her front yard on Sunday, the mega church going crowd is sure to stop by. Of course I already knew it wasn't going to be long until my naturally inquisitive mother opened the flood gates with questions. When I revealed my motives, the whole Arkansas River opened up to flood the town with anxiety.
But "why?" she asked.
"I'm going to hike The Pacific Crest Trail," I said firmly. "It's more than 2,000 miles over a few months."
Cue the alarm for the dam to break!
"You're sure as hell not. You can hike on a weekend camping trip or go to Yosemite for a week but you are not going to do that" her face flushed red. "You don't know anything about that! That's dangerous!"
Danger is nothing new to me. Look at my job. I'm the lead nightly reporter for the NBC station in Tulsa. This blonde hair blue eyed gal deals with all the murders, gang members, and therefore works closely with their families and gang associates for interviews. I also cover shootings and severe weather we drive right into. I'm talking tornadoes, ice storms and floods.
I've had more alarming emails or letters sent to me than my mother would feel comfortable knowing about. I won't forget to mention, a triple murderer - who cut his attorneys throat with a smuggled in razor in the room right next to me- is fixated on me and frequently calls.
I deal with danger every day. Let's rename me Liz "Danger" Bryant. But maybe this word "danger" is really "dangerously being thrown around by all of us." It's just a ploy to scare us off from exploring life.
My cousin Brooke and her husband James always help me devise plans. Brooke is the structured, detailed, every "t" crossed and "I" dotted person. James is more of a dreamer. Together it's a perfect fit when you need help mapping out a goal you've never dove head first into before.
I just keep remembering "if not now, when?" Nothing exciting and fulfilling in like happens in the comfort zone.
Here. We. Go
Over the weekend, I told my mother my goal to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. I led into the bomb I was about to shake her world with by asking "what all can I sell at a garage sale?" She explained people buy all kinds of stuff and if I set up in her front yard on Sunday, the mega church going crowd is sure to stop by. Of course I already knew it wasn't going to be long until my naturally inquisitive mother opened the flood gates with questions. When I revealed my motives, the whole Arkansas River opened up to flood the town with anxiety.
But "why?" she asked.
"I'm going to hike The Pacific Crest Trail," I said firmly. "It's more than 2,000 miles over a few months."
Cue the alarm for the dam to break!
"You're sure as hell not. You can hike on a weekend camping trip or go to Yosemite for a week but you are not going to do that" her face flushed red. "You don't know anything about that! That's dangerous!"
Danger is nothing new to me. Look at my job. I'm the lead nightly reporter for the NBC station in Tulsa. This blonde hair blue eyed gal deals with all the murders, gang members, and therefore works closely with their families and gang associates for interviews. I also cover shootings and severe weather we drive right into. I'm talking tornadoes, ice storms and floods.
I've had more alarming emails or letters sent to me than my mother would feel comfortable knowing about. I won't forget to mention, a triple murderer - who cut his attorneys throat with a smuggled in razor in the room right next to me- is fixated on me and frequently calls.
I deal with danger every day. Let's rename me Liz "Danger" Bryant. But maybe this word "danger" is really "dangerously being thrown around by all of us." It's just a ploy to scare us off from exploring life.
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