Reclaiming Adventure

Reclaiming adventure

 “Must be nice to have that kind of freedom.”

 “Do it now, before you have kids.”

When I would go on adventures in my 20’s, whether it was a weekend trek in the backcountry or a months long trip gallivanting across Europe, these kinds of comments would always pop up.   

When I started dating my now-husband, a grandfatherly mentor of mine noted, with a hint of concern in his voice, how devoted he was to the outdoors.

 “But I love those things too,” I protested. 

“That will change when you have children,” came the reply. 

Whether these comments were borne out of genuine encouragement or simply a sense of jealousy, I can’t say for certain.  However, I always felt a flinch of resentment at the notion that the weight of adult responsibilities, and particularly, children, were a surefire way to crush any sense of wonder leftover from a carefree youth.  And I stored away a silent determination that the creation of a family and a grown-up life would mean something different for me. 

Before long came marriage to that outdoor-loving man, then helping him launch a successful business and the chaos of 3 young children spaced a little closer than intended.  And things did change.  Our backpacks became a little heavier with diaper changes and extra clothes and snacks; our road trip vehicle changed from a sleek white truck with our sleeping mats laid out in the back to a rusty minivan with crumbs imbedded into the carpeting. But we didn’t stop adventuring.  Would it have been easier to just stay home on the weekends and keep the baby on her sleep schedule?  Sure.  Would it have been easier to just let the toddler splash in the kiddie pool in the backyard than to haul him up a mountain in a backpack to play in the alpine lake? Of course.  But we didn’t choose easy.  We chose wonder. 

We chose to forgo a rushed, busy schedule, a myriad of organized sports and activities and a perfectly manicured yard (Sorry, Joneses) in favor of time to watch the pattern the ants are making on the sidewalk, to notice the way different leaves crunch under our feet in the fall and to build a ridiculously large snow fort in the park behind our house when the temperature drops.  We chose to let our kids get muddy and chase frogs and skin their knees and stay up late to gape at the stars.

We chose to prioritize a life that allows us the freedom to bask in the glorious creation that surrounds us.

 And you can choose, too. 

No matter where you live, no matter the current structure of your life, you can choose to reclaim the sense of adventure that the modern culture of parenthood has stolen away from you.  Instead of believing the lie that you are somehow stuck with the hand that has been dealt to you, you can embrace the freedom and empowerment that come with exploring outside your comfort zone hand in hand with your little ones.

My kids come alive outdoors, the pressures of modern life and the blue glow of screens give way to the rustle of wind in the trees, the thrill of discovery and the victory of overcoming obstacles.  What better training can there be for a life filled with joy, determination, and purpose?

My soul awakens in these moments as well, in a way that little else has the power to provide.  The collision of nature, adventure and connection with those who have come from my own being fulfills something in the deepest parts of me.  My bond with these children God has placed in my care is nourished and enlivened. 

Freedom looks different these days.  I can’t drop all my responsibilities on the fly to travel just because a friend invited me.  I have learned to find value and even joy in the everyday mundane.  Yet, I am intentional about making space for adventure.  Considering the brevity of our children’s time with us and the inevitable challenges of day to day parenting, exploring together presents an uncommonly rich opportunity we can’t afford to neglect.

So, put off your Costco run and spend the afternoon catching grasshoppers in the park. Cancel your Zoom meeting and take a trip to the nearest animal sanctuary.  Stop scrolling Facebook and start planning next weekend’s adventure.  I hope the sense of connection and clarity you find will keep you coming back for more.

See you out there,

April