September 18, 2020 - Part 1

3 days before the Long Trail... . I truly didn’t think I would be here. The possibility of hiking pushed out of my mind before hope could find purchase and take hold. Then suddenly we were less than a week from our departure and I started to poke and steal glances at the hope I dared not mingle with. At this point I knew better. 2020 had been and would continue to be the year of changed plans and deferred dreams. No matter how hard I tried to find the positive spin of plan, not B, but more like X, Y, or Z, it still came with a heavy dose of grieving what could no longer be. . Would this time be different? It was hard to say. But Tuesday came and it was Covid test day. Wednesday was work and waiting and Thursday gave me a gift I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to carry. Our tests were negative! Hurdle one was complete but rather than feeling joy I had a gnawing pain in my stomach. . Sometimes in life, when you can’t find the bravery to confront your fears, your people will help lead you there. The excitement of my co-workers, for me, was infectious. Their smiles, their encouragement, and the extra helping of pizza started to turn my fear of loss into hope. We were less than 24 hours from when our flight would leave Charleston and my defenses had been destroyed by the kindness of my people. My heart was exploding with hope for better or worse. I was now laid bare to the potential of disappointment, pain, and hurt. The flip side of that vulnerability is the precious gift of being open to incredible joy. Sitting in the airport, my knees bounced with nervous energy but I was ready for what was to come.