Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

fear

A call to courage: Review of Let's All Be Brave by Annie F. Downs {plus a giveaway!}

Annie Downs doesn’t consider herself brave, but she’s done the next right thing in her life, even if it’s scary. Her latest book, Let’s All Be Brave, is a call to all of us to be courageous in whatever our lives require. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book in exchange for my review.)

braveDowns doesn’t demand that everyone pack up and move across the world. Bravery doesn’t require everyone to do the same thing, and what looks brave in one person’s life will look different in someone else’s. That’s one of the highlights of this book for me: that the brave thing is individual. Downs doesn’t offer specifics for being brave but principles and stories of what bravery has looked like in her life.

She tells great stories about the leaps she’s made in her life and encourages readers to take those kinds of leaps in their own lives. Her brave moments have included a move to Nashville when she knew no one, a move to Edinburgh, Scotland after she’d found community in Nashville, accepting her singleness in this stage of life. I was challenged by the idea that bravery isn’t always saying “yes” to something but sometimes it’s saying “no.” I hadn’t considered that before.

I appreciate the overall message of this book, but on complaint I have is that the chapters felt disconnected from each other. I didn’t get a sense of one flowing into the next. It was easy to read a chapter and walk away for a while, which meant it took me longer than I expected to read this book.

That said, if you’re feeling stuck or like you don’t know what’s next (or you do but you’re too afraid to say it or do something about it), then this book might be the nudge you need to go for it.

HOW TO WIN YOUR OWN COPY

And in case you need another nudge, I have a copy to give away! Leave a comment here on the blog about why you want to read this book, what bravery means to you or anything else you’d like to say, and I’ll enter you in a drawing. I’ll pick a winner on Monday, Sept. 22, so you have through the weekend to enter.

Want to know more about the author? Check out her website and blog:  http://www.anniefdowns.com/

And you can preview two chapters here.

 

I know why the chicken crossed the road

It was a beautiful Saturday evening when we ventured out for a long walk as a family around our neighborhood. There’s a picturesque path on the edge of town that offers a view of our humble borough that I can’t quite capture with a camera but that takes my breath away every time. My husband and I have taken this particular walk numerous times, and when we were training for a 5K (that feels like eons ago) it was one of our circuits.

On this night, we brought the kids, who we were certain would poop out before the end, but who said they were game.

All was well until we descended the hill back into town, toward the farm where our favorite cows live. A man jogging past us slowed down and said, “Watch out for the chicken. He’ll get ya!” My husband and I exchanged a look and offered him a patronizing “okay!” and a friendly wave. Seconds later, a car slowed down and the driver yelled out the window: “Did someone warn you about the chicken?” We said “yes” and they drove on. I’m not kidding you when I say that seconds after that, another car did the same thing, prompting our imaginations to create a chicken of Stay-Puf Marshmallow Man proportions (Ghostbusters, if you have no idea what I’m talking about).

Not the chicken that chased us. In case you were wondering ...

Not the chicken that chased us. In case you were wondering …

We became extra vigilant as we approached the farmhouse, and the kids were starting to sense it. Our 5-year-old started freaking out and our 3-year-old wanted to be carried. We spotted the chicken on the other side of the road (literally) and thought maybe we could sneak past without notice. Just as we were about to pass, one of the farmers rolled up in his work truck. He nodded in the direction of the chicken and said, “His name’s Henry. He’ll peck your shoelaces.”

We nervously laughed and kept walking, hoping the chicken wouldn’t see us.

It was false hope.

That chicken was across the road quicker than a “cock-a-doodle-doo.” Not knowing what else to do, we started running, which freaked our daughter out more and winded all of us. Let me offer you this word of warning: If you think outrunning a chicken is easy, think again! I know it wasn’t going to hurt us, but for a few moments, I felt like an actor in a horror movie being chased by a wild man wielding a weapon. That chicken could run. (Which by the way is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Not at all graceful.)

We made it beyond the chicken’s borders, I guess, and were able to stop and catch our breath and calm our daughter and laugh a little. We weren’t far from home, but it did take us a while to recover. The kids didn’t go to sleep easily that night and they’ve been talking about the rooster scare ever since.

As the kids and I walked around a different block a few days later, I thought about the chicken incident and how it could be one of those things that keeps me from walking the path with the beautiful view. I could avoid it from now on, out of fear of another chicken chase, or I could dare to walk it anyway.

Fear could make me miss a beautiful view.

One night last month, I went downstairs to get laundry out of the dryer and I saw a bat fly toward me. I hustled up the stairs and didn’t go back down there for a week. Necessity forced me past my fear, but even as I take care of laundry business downstairs now, I still wonder if there’s a bat down there.

Fear could keep me from doing what needs to be done.

Years ago, when Steve Irwin (you know, the Crocodile Hunter guy) died from a stingray attack while filming a documentary, I remember how much criticism he received, posthumously, for living such a risky life. Because it got him killed, people assumed it wasn’t worth the risk. But anyone who watched Irwin’s show (I was slightly obsessed with him at the time; I have the action figure to prove it) could sense that the guy loved his job. Yes, his job came with risk, but he did it anyway.

Fear could keep me from living an adventurous life doing what I love.

Photo by Kristin Smith/courtesy of Stock Exchange (www.sxc.hu)

Photo by Kristin Smith/courtesy of Stock Exchange (www.sxc.hu)

Those “why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes are probably as old as time, and honestly, I don’t have THE answer. But maybe the chicken crossed the road because he really did want to get to the other side.

Maybe he was tired of all the other chickens warning him of what would happen if he tried to cross the road. (You might get hit by a car! There might not be food! You don’t know what it’s like over there!)

Maybe he was curious. Or adventurous. Or just plain dumb.

No matter the reason, the jokes all start with the same premise: the chicken crossed the road.

And joke or no joke, we can learn a lot from a chicken.

Because I don’t know about you, but I know about me. And I’ve spent a lot of time letting fear keep me on one side of the road while I wonder what’s on the other side of the road.

Even if it takes me the rest of my life to cross to the other side, I’m taking the first step and kicking fear to the curb.

Who’s coming with me?