Don’t skip the big hills

When I was young, my family used to take yearly trips to an amusement park with my grandparents and cousins.

My mom has always been a huge roller coaster fan, and I think it kind of frustrated her to be at the park with her kids and not be able to ride anything (having taken my son to amusement parks, I totally get it ). So, as soon as we hit the requisite height limit, my mom began bribing us $1 to ride…although if we hemmed and hawed enough, we could drive the price up.

I remember one particular year in which she tried to get my sister to ride a roller coaster. She coaxed her up just by first getting her in line. Then by telling her that she only had to accompany her to the turnstiles, then the gate. Then, she promised my sister the one thing that made her feel safe getting on the ride:

“I’ll tell them to skip the big hill.”

Even as the train was pulling out of the station, my mom was leaning out and telling the operator “we’d like to skip the big hill.” And my poor sister believed her, at least until the chain started hauling them up the lift.

I don’t know why I tell that story. I’m not entirely positive that’s a great parenting tool–after all, what if my sister discovered she had motion sickness and puked after the ride? What if they’d broken down on the big hill? What if my sister developed trust issues from that?

But none of that happened. What happened is that they got off the ride and she loved it. To this day, both of my siblings and myself love roller coasters. I’m 38 years old and I still love going to Cedar Point or Kings Island and screaming my lungs out on things that are big, fast and steep.

While I said I don’t really know if that’s a great parenting tool, it has been a great life lesson for me. Because, like my sister, I was a bit afraid of roller coasters–particularly the “big hill.” I was afraid something was going to go wrong, the train was going to derail and we were going to crash to our doom. And if that didn’t happen, I was afraid I was going to be sick when I got off.

And yet, I got on the rides with the “big hills” (it wasn’t parental goading in my case, but peer pressure). And every time I got off, I loved the experience.

And so it’s been in life. The things I’ve been so terrified of are the things that have, in the end, been the sources of my greatest successes and the best lessons I’ve learned. I remember stepping into a newspaper nearly five years after I’d left college and spent time in a totally different career field–I was terrified I couldn’t get into the swing of things. And yet the four years I spent there were the most fun and fulfilling of my professional life. I remember being given a huge project at my last job, and going home in a panic because I knew nothing about how to get the project done or lead people. And yet, it was a success. I won an award for it. And it was the thing that I’m most proud of in that job. Had I listened to my fears and shirked away from opportunity, I never would have grown as I have, and I never would have been equipped for the job I now have, one that I greatly enjoy.

I was terrified to talk to girls, particularly after dates that hadn’t worked out. And yet, I called one particular girl up after only having emailed her a few times on Facebook. We’ve now been married almost seven years.  I remember staring into the blue eyes of a little baby boy, panicked that I had no idea how to take care of another human. Six years later, he’s healthy, happy and the sweetest person I know, with a 2-year-old sister who’s completely won my heart. Had I left the phone down all those years ago, none of that would have happened.

There was one other big hill in my life, all the way back in high school. My youth group had gone to West Virginia for a week of mountain biking, white water rafting and rappelling. And I remember standing atop a mountain, watching my friends rappel down a rope over the gorge below, thinking “there’s no way I’ll do that.” I was content to just walk back down–until all my friends tried it. And my little brother tried it. And I embarrassed myself by holding onto the rope and screaming.

I steeled my will and tried again, and went over the ledge. And the next 10 minutes are ones I’ve never forgotten. As I lowered myself from the mountain top to the woods below, I saw the entire river valley below me. I saw a raft cascade down the rapids. I watched a bird soar across the gorge. I descended into a forest and smelled the pine needles around me. It was the most beautiful, serene moment in my life. And I would have never had that experience had I listened to my fears.

The big hills mean there’s excitement after the drop. I’ve never faced a fear and come away disappointed. In fact, my I’ve learned my fears are often ten times worse than the expected result. Every time I’ve faced a fear I’ve come away with a lesson learned, or an experience that has changed my life.

So don’t skip the big hills. Hold your hands up and enjoy the ride.