Life is Risky. Prove me wrong!
When I was six, my parents sent me to Catholic school, which meant taking two buses alone each day. One morning, I lost my nickel and couldn’t get on, so I walked the whole way home, sticking to alleys so nobody would see me. Somehow, I knew the way. Half a mile from the house, I saw my parents driving toward me, yelling my name out the window. I hid behind a building, embarrassed. I don’t remember how I finally got home, but they were relieved when they found me. That was the last time I took the bus to school. That’s called stepping up when you have no choice. Not every risk feels like a gamble; some just feel like “this is what’s in front of me, so I do it. That’s not reckless, that’s just living.  Ordinary life is full of those quiet risks that don’t look like risks until you look back.
I’m taking a risk now talking about something this personal that I have harbored all my life.  I held that story for decades, and now I am sharing it out loud with people I  don’t even see.  That’s a real risk, and I’m doing it right now.
