Not too long ago I took my niece on a walk. We walked over the fields and into the woods. We were looking for something. We looked and walked. We walked and looked. And then, Lacey turned toward the farmhouse and said, "Look how far." I doubt we were more than a couple hundred yards from the house, but to Lacey it seemed like we had traveled a distance so great that we wouldn't be able to make it back before nightfall. The breadth of land between us and a familiar edifice was measurable and concrete, but our perspectives of that expanse were not interchangeable. I saw a skip, hop, and a jump. Lacey saw a voyage with a duration long enough to consume the remaining day. I asked her if she wanted to turn back, and she told me no. She reached for my hand and said, "We'll have fun."
In that moment I realized that I have much to learn from Lacey. She demonstrated how to trust. She knew that no matter how long our excursion lasted, we would have fun, and I would hold her hand and keep her safe. She relied on me. She had faith in me.
I am guilty of relying on no one. I endeavor to do everything on my own. In the event I were hemorrhaging from my jugular, I would dial 911 myself before asking someone to help. A walk to find a "goat bone" reminded me that it's okay to ask a fellow voyager to hold your hand. Concede that none of us can journey through life alone. We have to rely on someone; we have to have faith. In each other. In ourselves. For our children. We have to believe that we will all make it safely home.
We'll have fun.