A Different Kind of Adventure

There was a time when adventure meant motion.

With my first wife, it was road trips across the United States and days spent water skiing. With my second wife, it was sailing into Chesapeake Bay, taking to the water in our 25-foot O’Day, and bareboat charters across the Caribbean. Adventure then was about new places, new horizons, and new experiences.

But life has shifted. I no longer feel the same pull to the road or the sea. In fact, the thought of leaving St. Croix now brings more unease than excitement. What once was thrilling feels foreign, even unnecessary.

And yet, I have not lost adventure. It has simply changed its form. The Garden has become my solace—each walk with my camera, each tree I record, each bloom I witness, feels like its own journey. Instead of exploring distant shores, I explore the quiet rhythms of creation. Instead of chasing new sights, I find joy in returning to the same tree and noticing what has changed.

The Psalmist says, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Perhaps that is the adventure of this season—not the outward journey, but the inward one. To be rooted where God has placed me. To see His glory in the details. To learn that meaning does not always come from motion, but sometimes from stillness.

I used to think adventure meant going far. Now I find it can mean going deep.