What does being brave look like?

There are more definitions of bravery than there are shades of grass and colors of the sky.

My idea of bravery is quite different from that of a Navy SEAL, which is a world apart from being a cold call, door-to-door salesman.

While I may think I want to be unafraid in ways like them, it’s a mistake to measure my self worth by stacking the level of my courage up against anyone else’s.

After all, we each possess types of fearlessness that cause others to marvel and even possibly be envious.

Leaving your job, starting a business, traveling the world with your children, taking the education road less traveled, and even walking up to folks you don’t know and starting a conversation, all take bold-spiritedness.

The important question, though, is this “What does being brave look like to you?”

I can’t answer that for you, but I’ll share some of what it looks like to me, along with insights to help you unleash your inner courageous self.

I recognize the need for bravery when my heart flutters, my chest tightens, and I have an overwhelming sense of being too small and inadequate for the task before me.

One summer night few years back, such a need for bravery arose.

Our hot water went out, meaning I had to walk a million miles a short distance to get to a building with showers.

This was in the very dark early morning hours in the rural countryside, where lots of animals make scary noises in the neighboring woods.

I wrote about my experience:

I stepped confidently off the porch, and swung the light around the yard, the barn and the driveway. The dumpster was just this side of the woods a ways off to my left, a favorite of the bears, so much so that we had to put a chain on the lid to keep them from opening it up.

My heart started to pound as I did double check.

Nope, no bears there.

Whew.

I was concerned they might misread the Life is Good logo on my pj’s as She Tastes Good.

Needless to say, I encountered no bears that day—unlike another time in the bright afternoon sunshine—and lived to tell the tale.

Bear on our back deck

In retrospect, this event is funny and really quite small, and there may even be some of you reading this thinking, “This is scary?”

Remember my point: What is easy to do for one is not necessarily easy to do for another.

Like everyone, you are a contradiction of courage.

Spiders may make you shriek, but you may adore getting on stage and speaking to hundreds.

It’s all relative.

I am the same girl above who several years ago with our oldest teenage daughter, rode the highest roller coaster in the world, the High Roller, which sat 909 ft atop the Stratosphere Tower, twice, and then rode the Big Shot, the highest amusement ride in the world.

Go figure.

And I’m not particularly fond of heights.

The Stratosphere, via Wikipedia CC

I took three other big, brave steps this past year.

We sold our house and moved away from family and friends in New England to Tennessee.

I shared about the ups and downs and stepping out in faith here, here, here, and here.

In the fall, I attended a Christian women writer’s conference, where I:

• Agreed to ride the three hours each way with a fellow conference goer I’d never met who reached out to me on Facebook
• Volunteered to help with things I’ve never done
• Walked up to many bloggers I didn’t know, and just started conversations
• Stood up twice in front two different large groups of writers and read short pieces I wrote
• Shared my room that had two double beds with three roommates 

At the end of the day, I made new friends, was invited to new groups, and had a blast.

The other step, as if the first two weren’t big enough, was that I jumped out of an airplane.

10,500 feet above the earth, or approximately two miles up in the wild blue yonder.

Our youngest daughter bought tickets as a Christmas gift so she and I could go together.

While we were each strapped to an experienced jumping instructor, I was still really nervous as we took off.

It might have been the constantly open door in the plane, too, or the completely stripped down interior with only hard planks for seating.

We rolled out of the plane from a closed crouched/tucked position—no, you don’t jump—and floated gloriously to the ground, where we landed safely.

What. A. Rush.

I’ve thought about what these events have in common, and it is simply this:

At one point, they all existed beyond the edges of my comfort zone.

I just needed to stretch my comfort zone to accommodate them, and I recommend the following four steps to you to do the same.

• Start small to develop reference points to lean on next time: I spoke to that stranger, and she actually smiled and spoke back to me!
• Change your perspective: See a lack of courage as nothing more than being uncomfortable. The change in vocabulary can be powerful and can help shrink the fear.
• Build on your success: Well, since I did strike up a conversation with that stranger, I guess I can jump out of a plane. You may laugh at this example, but skydiving is #16 in the top 100 bucket list items. I seriously doubt talking with strangers ranks above that, so it would stand to reason people find it easier to get excited about falling 10,000 feet than walking across the room to engage someone they don’t know in conversation.
• Choose something and just get going: To quote Dale Carnagie, “Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.”

John Wayne noted that courage is being scared to death… and saddling up anyway.  Time to get up on that horse and go!

Question: What does being brave look like to you?

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