As I look out my apartment window and see the tops of the trees on a beautiful sunny day my mind wanders off as it typically does when I’m lacking motivation for schoolwork. However, the view is deceiving. Though there’s a huge open field, what looks to be an endless forest of trees that houses an array of wild animals, I’m quickly reminded that I’m stuck in the middle of Baton Rouge. Just out of view to the left of the window is an abandoned movie theater that has now become a canvas for graffiti artists. Just beyond that is a small shopping center with a Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, Lowes, a Petsmart that Alex and I frequent with our dog Rufus and other various shops, restaurants and hotels. It seems impossible to escape the concrete jungle. I reminisce about childhood memories back in Houston, yet another place full of hustle and bustle, and remember all the “adventures” I had in my backyard. It was all imagination. We had an western fort my dad built one summer so there were many a time travels back to the Wild West with duels, chasing down bank robbers, horse back riding and Indian side kicks like Tonto. Any lone ranger fans? No? I guess I just loved the old west more than the average kid. There’d also be the days where I’d go far beyond that one light pole I wasn’t supposed to pass when riding my bike. The best adventures though were on vacation in Colorado. There I wasn’t restricted. I was free. I didn’t have to imagine being in the Wild West or not being able to pass that light pole down the street. My dad’s father had a vacation home up on Mount Princeton, along with other various great uncles and aunts who had vacation homes as well. I guess my parents felt some sort of security with knowing so many people in an area they didn’t feel a need to worry where us kids would go. No, there we could venture off down the way and follow the river to the small lake, go run the trails around the house, explore up the mountain to a park with the old rusted slide. But as I write this sitting on my couch in the city of Baton Rouge, there isn’t much adventure. No fort to imagine being in the west, no mountains to explore. But maybe there still is adventure, just not the kind that I’m used to. Maybe now the adventure is in building new relationships with coworkers, building upon those established relationships with friends, living out the adventure that is marriage, and most importantly my relationship with Christ. These next few months no matter how seemingly long they may seem, I feel its important to work on finding adventures in what doesn’t seem adventurous. It’s been tough to come to this point because of the little kid adventurer inside of me, but I know that it is going to be so amazing to see how these relationships will prepare me for the next great adventure of life in India. Without those relationships, I know I will fail. I know I will tire out and I know I’ll want to call it quits but having that community to spur me on when I doubt myself will make it all worth it.