You Want Me to Do What?

I am a wimp. I admit it openly. I do not like to sweat or even be hot. Cold is bad too. I don't want to carry too much stuff, so I pack light. It drives my husband nuts because he is the man who is always prepared. I do not like to climb steep hills or slide down them either. I do not like heights or the dark. My idea of camping is a hotel without a pool. My hair and makeup don't have to be perfect or "done," but I don't like to be messy either. I am a picky eater so I would rather go hungry than creative. In spite of all of this, I was asked to join our local volunteer Search and Rescue Squad. I'm sorry, did you say my name? I think you meant my eight-year-old who is braver than me, right? After much deliberation, I was sworn in last month and it is finally sinking in. I tricked myself into thinking I could do this until last week. Last week some of our guys went on a search that was tough for them. They hiked miles upon miles through the mountains (the elevation varied from 8000 to 11,000 feet) looking for a lost hiker. What was I thinking?! Oh yeah, they asked me to join so I could sit at the command post and tell others what to do. They have seen me with my children and know that I am good at telling people what to do. Why was I worried? I can do this.