Sheri Hunter - Daring to Live: How the Power of Sisterhood and Taking Risks Can Jump-Start Your Joy

July 2009

I set out for a whitewater-rafting adventure on West Virginias Gauley River with three of my closest girlfriends. Brenda, Angenette, Mia, and I had met two years earlier through the outreach ministry at our church. We quickly bonded over our shared life experiences, our Christian faith, and the fact that wefour middle-aged, African American women living in Detroitwanted a little more adventure in our lives.

One Sunday afternoon, Miaalways the woman of actionwalked into a ministry meeting with information on whitewater rafting. Fed up with all our talk of having an adventurous girls weekend, she put a plan in motion.

Cmon, Sheri! Itll be fun! Mia said as I skeptically paged through the pamphlet shed practically poked my eye out with minutes earlier.

I dont know, I said slowly. It seems kind of dangerous, seeing that none of us can, you know, swim .

But thats why it will be an adventure! Mia winked. Whats an adventure without a little danger?

Yessss, lets go, Ang said. So great I found like-minded women who like adventure. Ive whitewater rafted before. Its so fun.

Mia and Ang were so excited, but it was unusual for me to consider doing something like this. Still, I was at a point in my life where I wanted to live outside myself a bit.

Okay, I guess so. I gave a half smile. Im down!

Brenda was the last to agree. Like me, she didnt know what we were getting into, but she was willing to give it a go.

The morning we left, I hugged my kids real tight and kissed my husband, Mannard, goodbye as I headed out the door.

Mannard stopped me, not letting go of my hand as I tried to walk to the car. He gave me a pointed look. Remember to have fun , he said, arching his eyebrows. Dont hold yourself back on this trip because of the what-ifs.

I gave him a thin-lipped smile. If there was anything Id learned over seventeen years of marriage to this man, it was that he always knew what I was feeling, whether I expressed it or not. Okay, I wont, I said, avoiding his eyes and darting out the door.

The next day, as I stood in front of the massive, churning Gauley River, Mannards words ran through my mind. I felt my heart slide into the pit of my stomach. I was terrified . I could not swim, so how was I supposed to deal with a hostile river that seemed primed to toss any one of us overboard? Had I embarked on the equivalent of a suicide mission?

Angenette was the only one who had whitewater rafted before, when she lived in California. She was a true diva, bringing all her adventurous spirit, as she had skydived and traveled to South Africathings that made my head spin. Mia and Ang were inspiring me.

We were assigned to a raft with a sturdy-looking forty-something and his teenage son. As Katy, our guide for the day, went over the safety precautions in detail, I fidgeted with my life jacket, trying to ascertain whether it was sufficiently buoyant to hold my weight in the very likely chance I got thrown into the drink.