I was lost in the middle of bush country in Zambia. I had traveled to the African nation with a church group to work with AIDS orphans. As a part of that effort, we were taking food, blankets, and other supplies to a remote village that had been devastated by the disease.
The day started calmly enough. I climbed into the back of the open bed truck with the rest of my group and perched on sacks of mealie meal as we pulled away from the guest house outside the capitol of Lusaka. Soon the paved road turned to a dirt road which led to a two track which became open wilderness.
We had traveled far across the rolling landscape, winding our way through huge clumps of brush when our driver stopped and got out of the truck. I glanced around expectantly, but there was literally nothing in sight. Our Zambian driver looked at us and proclaimed, “We lost. I go find us.” And with that, he ran off and disappeared.
After getting over the initial shock of that statement, we laughed and talked about how strange it was to be plucked from our suburban American comfort to find ourselves in the middle of the African bush. But as ten minutes turned to fifteen and our driver had not returned, the reality of our situation began to sink in. None of us had any idea where we were. The winding path we’d taken through the brush had left us all completely disoriented. There was no cell service. We became quiet and tense. I don’t think I was alone in silently questioning the wisdom of my decision to go on this journey.
Much to our collective relief, our driver appeared a short time later and declared that he had reoriented himself. We were once again off through the wilderness.
Soon I heard the unexpected sound of singing in the distance. It grew louder as we crested a hill and saw a small village laid out before us. Coming from the circle of mud and thatch huts was line of women, children, and old men, singing and waving their arms in greeting. The joy on their faces was palpable. I was stunned. No president has ever received a better welcome. Even as I write this, my eyes are filling with tears at that memory from sixteen years ago.
We pulled into a small open area among the huts and began passing out the supplies. Women took heavy bags of mealie meal, a course flour made from maize, and cried out with joy. Children laughed and yelled exuberantly as we tossed out soccer balls. Old men clutched the blankets we handed them and cried.
I will never forget that day. Something deep inside of me shifted, changed, grew. The world shrunk for me, and I recognized strangers on the other side of the globe as my sisters, grandparents, nieces and nephews. I had come to a place I’d never been geographically and found a place I’d never been within myself.
I share that story to ask you this – who do you want to become? What is your personal development goal? Where do you want to see yourself in five years? Ten? At the end of your life? Reaching those goals will require going places you’ve never been, and sometimes you’re going to get lost along the way. You’ll find yourself sitting in the back of a truck, in the middle of the wilderness, wondering where you are and if this journey was such a good idea.
Embrace it. Fight past the fear and the allure of your familiar comforts. Becoming someone worth being sometimes means hacking your way through unmarked territory, along a path less traveled. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Do it. You’ll find footprints of those who’ve gone before you, signposts to help guide you. Step out. Like Bilbo leaving his safe hobbit hole to follow a wizard and some unruly dwarves, take up the adventure. Your future self, and those you inspire along the way, will thank you for it. You’ll take another giant step toward Becoming Yourself.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
From “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost
