Living Large

We have one child who lives larger than the rest of us. She climbs trees with no fear. She talks to all kinds of people. She rarely pauses or hesitates. She even seems to enjoy her ice cream more than the rest of us.

I do not live large. I’m not impulsive, and I rarely take risks. I avoid change whenever possible. It is by sheer force of will that I try one new food a year. (My mom says I only eat five foods and none of them can touch.) I like to think that what I lack in living large I make up for in living deep, but really, I’d like to live a little bigger, too.

Just before Christmas, my husband and I made a foray into living large. Actually, we bought something large—an RV that rolled out of the factory the same year I graduated from high school and seems to have lived a harder life since then. We bought it sight unseen from a salvage auction and had a doozy of a time getting it home. (A long story that involves a disabled draft shaft, a crabby Target manager, and a van full of children who desperately needed a bathroom).

The results of this gamble remain to be seen. Was this large living or foolish living? Regardless, it’s got me thinking. Maybe it’s OK that I’m not a person who climbs trees or eats sushi or makes impulsive decisions. I think I’m OK with small aspirations and small adventures—as long as my faith is large. The best way for me to live large is to trust large. What greater adventure can there be in life than living in complete dependence upon One I can’t see, touch, or hear? Some would argue that’s the greatest risk of all. But it’s one that I’ll take. I’ll take it like my daughter would, jumping in with both feet, with no hesitation. And I will have succeeded in living larger if at the end of 2010, I can see that I have trusted God with more things, more quickly, more completely.