Kent and I have been on several cruises over the years. On one trip in the Bahamas, we had planned a beach excursion. Unfortunately, the seas were rough that day and it was cancelled.
Our replacement option?
A ropes course and zip lining.
Perfect.
Except… I have always had a fear of heights.
At that point, I had never done either activity and had absolutely no intention of starting. But for some reason, that day I decided to try something new.
When we arrived, they fitted us into heavy-duty harnesses. I remember thinking, Well… this equipment seems serious. That helped. I also watched people ahead of me finish the course. No injuries. No panic. No emergency helicopters. Everyone looked alive and strangely happy.
My brain started negotiating: “Look—they survived. If they can do it, you can too.“
So up I went. I followed the person ahead of me while realizing someone was behind me. There was really no turning back. One foot. Then another. I tried not to look down.
As I moved through the ropes course, something shifted. The more I kept going, the calmer and more confident I became.
Then came the zip line. My internal dialogue returned: “You probably won’t die. The harness will hold.“
“Probably.”
At the end of the experience, standing on solid ground and being helped out of my harness, I realized something surprising.
I had loved it.
I felt excited and alive. I loved the rush of adrenaline and the joy of doing something I never thought I would do. Since then, I’ve taken opportunities to zip line several more times and have enjoyed every one.
That experience taught me something that has stayed with me.
Life presents choices. You can sit on the sidelines and let fear decide, or you can put one foot in front of the other and move forward.
The biggest challenge for me in moving to Mexico was not selling our house, leaving possessions, or navigating a brand-new environment and culture.
It was fear of the unknown.
Would I feel lonely?
Would I regret it?
Would I miss family too much?
Would I adapt?
When those fears showed up, I reminded myself that I have already done difficult things:
• I married at nineteen.
• We had our first child a year later, then more children.
• I returned to college in my thirties and became a nurse.
• I accepted church responsibilities that I felt unprepared for.
• I chose major elective surgery to improve my health.
• I started running and completed three marathons.
• I learned to ride motorcycles and rode my own bike on road trips with Kent.
Each challenge taught me the same lesson.
I am capable of more than I think.
Mexico has continued giving me opportunities to practice that lesson. Meeting new people, learning another country’s history, trying to speak Spanish, navigating unfamiliar places, and learning new ways of living have all reminded me that growth usually comes with discomfort.
I still feel anxiety when I do new things.
I don’t think courage means fear disappears.
I think courage means deciding to move anyway.
One step.
Then another.
Life is a big adventure—
if you choose it.
— Judi
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