One Quarter of the World

(I'm not normally much into poetry.  And when I am, it tends to sound like Dr. Seuss.  But I wrote this for my little sister, Kristi.  For the past 26 years, we've raced horses through cornfields, trained puppies, caught fish and fireflies, chased eagles, pitted against each other in word games, conquered mountains, inhaled epic amounts of chocolate, and criss-crossed the country.  And that's only on Tuesdays.  Now she's a missionary nurse, flying off to Africa.  Today.  For three years.  I'm so proud of you, Kristi!)

One quarter of the world to cross
To stretch from here to there,
Trading fields and fireflies
For sweet savannah air,
Flitting not too ruefully
From modern trends and time
To a place where late is not
And everything unwinds.

One quarter of a house gone dark,
A room without a chief,
To light another slanted roof
Beyond the deep blue sea.
Last in line of four and two,
A daughter, sister, friend.
Strapping on the Chaco tan,
Adventuring again.

One quarter of a dream to own,
Three parts to give away,
To lose the things that fools will keep
And win the ageless gain.
It feels like a funeral,
It sounds like wedding bells,
Ringing proud and hopefully,
We echo fare thee well!

(Follow Kristi's adventures in Africa Here.)

Flying . . . Again.

Last week: 10,200 feet above sea level.  An hour's drive from Breckenridge, Colorado.  Nothing but a balloon suspending me 1,200 feet in the air.  Curious George flashing through my head.

This week: 5,000 feet above Nebraska corn fields.

In a very small airplane. (Picture my car with wings.)

With my horseback riding / mountain climbing / marathon running / missionary / nurse / very cool sister and a doctor who shall go unnamed because of a certain cloud and slightly shady legalities.

And there I was in the back seat. (I don't know if that's really what you call the posterior half of a very small airplane, but it certainly felt like a back seat to me.) Circling my house.  Hanging out the window.  Waving at my mom.

I've always wanted to wave at someone out of an airplane and have them wave back.  Dream accomplished.  2,397 to go.

Kristi's always wanted to stick her hand out an airplane and touch a cloud.  Another dream accomplished.

Two down in one day.  Not bad for a sunny early summer day in good ol' Nebraska.

I am so blessed.

 

(The car with wings.)

 

  

(Living a dream.  Touching a cloud.)

(My mom's the tiny little dot in the driveway you can't see.)

The Reasons Why I Love My Family

June 1-8, 2013.

The Johnson family.

25 people.  Plus one dog.

Breckenridge, Colorado.

So, I was going to write this profound, in-depth post about how COOL my family is and how much we enjoyed our Epic-est Adventure tamely labeled "A Johnson Family Vacation."  Then I decided there just weren't words. (Wait.  You'll understand once you see the pictures.) Here are ten photos instead.  If I'm adding my math up correctly, that should equal precisely ten thousand words.

This is why I love my family:

 #10: We help each other run faster.

#9: We play with rubber duckies in the bath tub.

#8: We like cleaning together.

#7: We will always eat Victory Chocolate in 30 mph wind at 14,000 feet.  Even if it does make us feel sick.

#6: We have no qualms about giving small children bags of popcorn and m+m's and then leave them unattended for the entire length of a movie.

#5: We like showing off our muscles.

#4: We like hot and air and balloons. :-)

#3: We are not ashamed to do crazy things to get our picture taken.

#2: We look way cool in our matching T-shirts.

. . . And the #1 reason I love my family . . .

Where else in the world could I go to find people who would take a picture like this?

(For all the rest - well, some of the rest - of the reasons I love my family, visit my facebook album Here.)

An Adventure Story

I have three sentences for you.  Three sentences that make one of the best adventure stories ever told.  They go like this:

Hot.

Air.

Balloon.

I know.  Half way through that story, you were wondering where I was headed, huh?  But you gotta admit, the ending is pretty good.  Exactly one thousand two hundred feet off the ground.  With nothing between me and certain death but a whicker basket, a little bit of rubber, random spurts of propane flames, and a balloon.

Just like Curious George.

I am now one of the proud “Once in a Lifetime Opportunity” participants.  Just outside Hartsel, Colorado.  Elevation 9,000 feet.  With my mom and little sister.  Twenty-four hours after summiting a 14,000 mountain on foot and seeing a somewhat similar view.

Y’all should certainly try it sometime.