calloused dreamer

"Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth."

I spent a great deal of my childhood hearing my mother say those words. We lived right across the street from Academy Springs Park in Covington where my brothers and I spent countless hours gliding through the air in those chained rocketships; those linked-vehicles only letting you go "this high" and "this far" as if we were some sort of domestic pet in the suburbs. I used to love swinging. I enjoyed the thrust of hands pushing my lower back, refueling whatever I chose to be driving that day, and sending me up into the sky in a gravity-defying-kind-of-way.

I used to love swinging.

But not now.

I got on a swing last July for the first time since 1996. When I was 8 years old, I broke both of my arms while jumping out of a swing. It is one of the most vivid, terrifying moments of my childhood. And it saddens me - not because I was injured, but because I lost an avenue of innocent innovation. Even the calloused retelling of my story feels "older." I adapted the "jumping out of a swing" version over the years. And of course, that's essentially what I was doing. On the surface, anyways.

But what could I have really been doing before I plummeted back to the ground? Back to reality? Back to pain and hurt and throbbing. Was I travelling through a galactic universe at warp speeds? Maybe bungee jumping from atop the Grand Canyon? Was I flying a life-sized jet similar to the model air plane my dad gave me for my birthday that year?

"Back and forth. Back and forth."

Now I'm 21 years old - 5 months from graduating college, marrying one of God's most precious creations, and beginning full-time ministry. I am on the cusp of moving forward. And I'm looking back. Not wishing to relive moments in the past, but trying to learn from them. Why "Back and forth?" Why "back" first? Perhaps I need to take time and reminisce the back-end of my timeline with a purposeful goal to not repeat the same mistakes before I cut through the next chapter of my life at mach-1 speeds. I want to find that avenue again. I want to tackle obstacles with reckless-abandon and a fearless approach. I want to be a sail-hoister and a door holder.

"Back and forth."

Do I regret jumping out of that swing?

Do I regret the twists and turns in my life that have led me to this point?

I do not regret jumping.

I do not regret the road I've taken.

I only wish I would have gotten back on the swing and continued dreaming.