Yesterday, I went on a little adventure with my friend, Shannon. It wasn’t one of those things I would normally consider to be an adventure, but with Shannon, everything is an adventure. So there we were, sitting in a bagel shop, when she finds out I had never been there before. “Girl,” she exclaimed, “I just love that I get to be part of all these firsts with you! Like the downtown mall, the Mellow Mushroom, and now this.”
I blinked. We were eating bagels and she managed to make it sound like we were climbing Mt. Everest. I quickly found her mountain-sized enthusiasm stirring my own. Believe it or not, I’m not naturally one of those excitable kind of people. I’m often hard to impress, and I don’t enjoy exploring new things. That kind of goes against everything I’ve been saying, doesn’t it? But it’s true. While my brother inherited my dad’s “happy feet,” I tend to cling to my grandma’s mentality of not wanting to leave home.
I remember how, shortly after I moved down here, my coworkers kept encouraging me to “explore the territory” and drive around town “just for fun.” I remember having two distinct thoughts about that.
- I don’t think it’s wise for a young woman to wander around such a busy town all by herself.
- That’s not fun; that’s torture.
That’s how little I enjoy “adventure.”
But then I go places with people like Shannon and I see the world through different eyes. As I was sitting in that bagel shop with my oh so excitable friend, I realized something… When I’m with Shannon, the mundane things become exciting and the small things appear to be colossal. I live the journey so much better when I’m living it with her. But I want to live like that all the time. I want to be the kind of person who makes an adventure out of mall trips, and pizza places, and bagel shops.
And while Shannon’s mountain-sized enthusiasm seems impossible for me to achieve, I’ll start with a hill – a little mound really. And maybe if I pray hard enough, live loud enough, and truly rejoice in the little things, my mound will become a mountain. I’ll just take it like I have to take everything else in life – one little step, one gloriously mundane moment at a time.