Today, I did something I avoided the first time around.
The mere look of it's grandeur and height freaked me out enough the first time I saw it. The sign half lit, half falling off the building that seemed to climb the sky for days. Just as I remembered from seeing it years ago. I tried to erase this memory.
Today, heavy, grey clouds gathered around behind it as though they were orbiting around the eye of a storm that was instigating rebellion. Raindrops began to sprinkle, just as the forecast we chose to ignore said might happen. I knew we'd need to seek cover soon, before we were stuck in the middle of a bustling crowd with no awning left to seek shelter. I stared at the mass I had once avoided, and facing my fear, I knew this was where we would go. And I said the words I never thought I'd say.
"Let's go ride the Hollywood Tower of Terror."
I used to think of myself of somewhat of a risk taker. Someone who went against the grain, most times on purpose, and then some without my knowledge, only coming to the forefront after I had angered people or made an unfashionable statement. But I've noted a routine that comes with these seemingly devised moves.
I have to risk on impulse.
I have to risk when I'm feeling a certain rush of adrenaline, or a particular fear of self-paralyzation, or I won't risk at all.
I don't like heights, or rainstorms, or fake haunted things. I prefer Taylor Swift songs and cookie dough ice cream. I have no great experience from my past that would justify my random fears that someone has intricately crafted into an amusement park ride that brings in a lot of cash. Tall building. Eerie noises. Fake bell hops. A haunted elevator. I just don't like it, okay?
But for some reason today, that creepy fear of death that follows me like Louie Giglio's dark cloud pushed me to decide that I would not only address this fear of this silly ride that people come from all over to strap into, but I'd initiate our meeting. I would be the instigator.
I'm not saying it became my favorite ride in the park. In fact, I'll probably never ride the thing again. Though as I stepped back onto the wet pavement after the rain had stopped and after the dreadful ride was over, I felt a sense of relief. Not some sort of temporary adrenal high, but simple relief. Relief to have my feet on solid ground, of course. But more than that, relief that today, fear didn't own me. Fear didn't dictate my day. And I confess, some days it does.
Today, I felt bigger than the 13 story building that hovered behind me.
And I can't help but wonder, if this is what it feels like to initiate contact with my fears of an amusement park ride, what will happen when I muster the courage to instigate them with the callings of the Kingdom on the way I live my life?
What will happen when I face head on the reasons why my feet are still when they should be running towards the captives?
I wonder what will happen if you do the same.
And maybe if we do, we could have coffee someday and talk about it. I hope that someday is soon, we have more to talk about than we thought we would.