Some of my ancestors crossed an ocean to live in a land they had never seen.
Some lived out their entire lives in one place, never venturing outside of their village, never seeing an ocean.
Some sought adventure, others refuge from persecution.
Some sought strength through family and the peace that comes with purpose.
Some sought wealth, others contentment.
Some killed to gain, while others built.
All had communities, all had fear.
All had love, and dreams.
This morning, I was thinking that I had never crossed an ocean, never climbed a mountain. Never, on my own, have I gone on a grand adventure or taken a journey to a far away land to live there for a time.
I am content to live my life where I am, to find adventure in a simple conversation with a new friend, and find comfort in the gentle embrace of a seasoned relationship.
I dreamed of taking a trip to see the places where so many of my ancestors were born, lived, and died. Not far away lands across the sea, places that I can get to by car. My plans had to be set aside, my journey ended before it had begun.
I am not my ancestors, but they are part of me. I am little bits of them all, and my road ends here in a home I didn’t choose, surrounded by things that are not mine.
Yet, here I find contentment. Here I find peace and love. I will likely remain here, live here, die here. I am, after all, not the adventurous type.
…or am I?
~ elr
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