You can’t be brave if you’ve only had wonderful things happen to you.

–Mary Tyler Moore

Choosing to be brave in a situation. Selecting words, making decisions and overriding utter terror or heartbreak or stress to personally supply courage into a situation is something I value. I privately challenge myself to act bravely on a regular basis and this usually means making choices that bring inconvenience and a level of discomfort or sacrifice into my life.

If only we could learn differently.

Choosing to be brave also forces me to challenge habits and identify worries I voluntarily carry along with me, especially the ones that grow increasingly heavy and weigh me down over time. It always requires a bit of mental gymnastics on my part.

In some regards I’m not brave at all. At this moment in time I don’t plan to override the terror I’d feel if I stood on the edge of an airplane with a parachute on my back ,just to say I’d jumped. Or push through the physical and mental exhaustion of a marathon.

I say, “All power to ‘ya!” if that’s your way to learn some lessons in bravery. I understand the value of voluntarily placing a physical challenge in your path.

In an effort to move my attempts to act bravely out of the mental realm and into the real world, I once made a brave choice my husband brags about to this day. It happened a couple of years ago when he and I spent a long weekend together in Las Vegas. One morning over breakfast we made a deal with each other: If he’d accompany me through an art exhibit of Impressionist painters with some degree of interest and good humor, I’d accompany him on one run of the New York, New York roller coaster.

It was a win-win situation not to be passed by.

“Let the good times roll!” Matt nearly shouted as he read me a description of the attraction. First we’d be lifted 203 feet into the air, then drop 144 feet at 67 miles per hour. Simulating a jet fighter, we’d barrel roll, turn 180 degrees, hang 86 feet in the air, work through the famous “heartline” twist and dive, and experience some genuine negative Gs.

“Hallelujah!” I proclaimed out loud, right there next to the buffet line. And it would only cost us $28 for the thrill.

Off we went. Past the gamblers and peep show promoters. Past the fountains and tourists lined up for photos. After a few minutes of hoofing it down the famous Strip we ducked into an air conditioned hotel to put on headphones and view, up close and personal, the works of Monet and Renoir and a scattering of post-Impressionist painters that included the famous Vincent Van Gogh. I was in heaven and Matt was surprisingly impressed, as well.

It was then time for me to buck up. As we paid our fees, emptied out our pockets and stowed away personal effects in a locker for safe keeping, I understood it was a moment I could rise to the occasion or crash and burn. I dug deep, silently fervently, and moved one foot in front of the other. I talked with people near us in line to keep my mind occupied. I smiled and laughed and even managed to surprise a husband who believed that after 25 years of marriage he had me all figured out.

“You’re really in good humor about all this!” he commented with a note of delight.

It’s what happens when you call on the strength of God, I thought to myself.

We boarded the coaster and in an instant were off. Matt hollered with glee and provided me with a play by play of all he saw. I let out a couple of “Wows!” and stuffed myself into the corner of my car, chin to my chest, eyes cemented closed. I employed some natural childbirth cleansing breaths and held on for dear life.

As the ride came to an end I aroused myself from my mental cocoon and smiled as I disembarked, legs unsteady but moving.

“I did it!”

“You did it. Thanks,” Matt responded.

I would have had him completely fooled had it not been for that camera. You know the one that takes a picture while you’re on the ride and it’s offered for your purchase as you leave. There is Matt, fists up in the air, a huge smile splashed across his face. There I am pictured in the next car, plastered in the corner, eyes closed, hunkered down in survival mode.

But it’s a great memory all the same. It has pleased Matt to no end and that’s a by-product of choosing to be brave.

In his latest book titled, “Facing Your Giants, “ author Max Lucado recounts the various situations King David found himself facing as a common boy and eventually as a king. The concept of bravery is a constant and fascinating theme. At times David responded with bravery because of positive steps he took to learn how to be brave. He allowed good influences at those moments.

At other times David failed miserably and it is from both experiences that we will again look at ways to live bravely next week. To be sure, it’s a life-long roller coaster ride.