It was a snowy day in February, two weeks before my 18th birthday, and we decided to go sledding. What better way to spend a snow day? I went down the hill a few times and started to get more comfortable with this new sledding location. About the fourth time I ascended the steep hill as I approached the top, I overheard a group trying to convince my brother to go down the hill on an inner-tube. He refused, but I was fearless and a daredevil so I jokingly called him a wimp and took them up on their offer. If I would have known all the events that were about to take place, I would have chosen differently and not let go of the fence that held me on top of the hill. But I didn’t’ know, and I let go. The result was the worst broken wrist the doctors had seen.
We spent this month in Cartagena, Colombia. A city engrained with hip hop culture. The streets are filled with the color of peoples stories told through graffiti. Every plaza is filled with the sounds of live performers pouring their hearts and souls out for change dropped in a hat. Our ministry started as hanging out with strangers who over the course of the month became dear friends and brothers. Our very own Colombian family. We watched night after night as the members of the dance group Mo’Kidz Flavor seemingly defied gravity in front of our eyes, fearlessly flipping over the concrete. They made it look easy.
It is interesting how as children we fearlessly do flips around the living room. I remember in 4th grade, every recess I would go to the grassy part of the playground and spend the entire half hour trying again and again to perfect my cartwheel. I fell so many times but every time I would stand back up and try again. I was unafraid of falling. I was fearless and the world was limitless. I could be and do anything! When I finally got it right, I cartwheeled everywhere. I loved the sensation of being upside down. And I always knew that if I fell down I could run to my dad and he would hold me in his arms, give me a pretty bandaid and kiss it to make it better.
When I broke my wrist I was told that it would never heal. I would never play my guitar again and I would spend the rest of my life being defined by what I couldn’t do. My heart broke and I spent a lot of time very angry at God, I didn’t understand why he would give me such a deep love for music and then take my guitar away from me. I cried myself to sleep many nights asking “Why?”
As the B-boys tried to share their world with us and teach us some dance moves this month, I found myself saying “I can’t”. At some point I lost that fearlessness that I had when I was a child. I became afraid of falling. I became afraid of getting hurt and it crippled me to the point that I wouldn’t even try. As I stood and watched my team trying to hold themselves up on their hands, I began to wonder how many other things I have just decided I couldn’t do. Does my wrist still hurt sometimes? Yeah. Are there sometimes things that I end up not being able to do? Yeah, I am not superwoman. But when did I become too afraid to even try.
I remember when the doctors told me I wouldn’t play guitar again. There was a fierce warrior in my spirit that wanted to prove them wrong so badly. And guess what, eventually I did. Now I play my guitar all the time, and sometimes it makes my wrist hurt, but it is always worth it. At some point, however, I lost my desire to keep fighting and I just settled for believing I couldn’t.
So I began to wonder, what would happen if I did? What if I did try to break dance? What if I stopped making excuses for why I can’t and started to try? What is the worst that could happen?
We went on our adventure day to camp at Playa Blanca. JKon, one of the b-boys was doing handstands on the beach. Well, inevitably, my team started to join in and do cartwheels in the sand. I stood and watched, hiding behind my camera. I was using the videos and pictures I was taking to mask the fact that I was afraid to try to do a cartwheel. I have wanted to try it since just after my wrist healed from surgery but I have been too afraid. I was afraid I would reinjure myself. I mentioned in passing that I wished I could join the fun but haven’t tried a cartwheel since before my accident. My teammate Shannon offered to hold my stuff and encouraged me to try.
Tired of being afraid, I handed my camera to her and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes exhaled and did a cartwheel for the first time in almost 8 years. And I was fine! No broken bones, no bruises.
I am not sure when we change from those children who are unafraid to adults that are fearful of failing. When I was a kid I knew I could run to my father’s arms for comfort if I messed up and got hurt, so I was fearless. I don’t know, but just maybe this is where the problem lies. When we grow up we forget that we can have freedom to live outside of our self-imposed limitations and try hard things. And if we fall down, we are caught in the arms of the Father, who wants to take what hurts and make it something beautiful.
As for me, I want to relearn how to be fearless.
What would happen if you did???
