Risk and Reward

I love being home. There's something about Wenatchee that is so inexplicably Wenatchee. Maybe it's the years I've spent, maybe it's the memories I've formed, maybe it's the people that plant their lives deep here and become as great a part of the landscape in my mind as the Columbia River and Saddlerock--probably, it's a combination of all three--but there is something here that makes me never want to leave. I come home and feel like I'm wrapped in a warm brown hug that smells of sagebrush and tastes like Stemilt apples and Caffe Mela coffee and looks a whole lot like love.

It's in an attempt to counteract tonight's warm gushy feelings, though, that my pessimistic head lets other emotions creep in: Dread. Doubt. Sadness. I don't want to leave; I never do. I'm 36 hours from having to say goodbye and yet my heart is already protesting the pain; I'm only in Bozeman again for two weeks and yet somehow that seems like forever. Maybe it would have been better to just stay there, I vaguely think. Then I wouldn't have to say goodbye. Then I wouldn't have to feel the ache of leaving yet again. Then there's not as much risk.

 I've been thinking a lot about risk lately. What risks are worth it, and what aren't? What risks are good to take, and what ones are truly unwise? Wouldn't it just be easier to sit back and coast?

But then I think about all the things I would miss if I hadn't taken the risk of coming back. I'd miss dinners with squirrely children who, for all of their eight or ten or thirteen years of "experience", feel qualified to chime in with relationship advice. I'd miss having to pry myself out of a warm bed to stand in the cold and run a 5k with my mother, yes, but I'd also miss the pride and sense of accomplishment once we'd finished. I'd miss the secret conversations with my brothers negotiating Jarred's return and the look on my mom's face when she saw him walk in the door. I'd miss coffee dates with people who I know just get me and love me no matter where I am. I'd miss board games with family. I'd miss getting to see Pybus all lit up with Christmas decorations. I'd miss movie nights with people that always make me feel like I'm home, no matter where we are, no matter if everyone actually managed to keep their eyes open while we watched the movie. I'd miss laughter, and I'd miss comfort, and I'd miss joy, and I would miss a whole, whole lot of love.

In this case, those rewards far outweigh the risk of a little heartache and homesickness.

Isn't that the case most of the time? I'm not very old at all, and I don't have much experience, but from what I've seen most risks are worth taking in order to gain something else. God shows up so frequently when I take risks- whether it's as simple as knocking on doors and watching as people respond to an invitation to Bible study, or moving to Bozeman and watching God provide a community that fills my heart. It's risk, but it's reward, too.

And let me tell you something, friend: I'm starting to think that is worth it.

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