I’m still laughing over the drama that unfolded this
weekend, and wanted to get every detail recorded so I can look back in ten
years and laugh some more. It all
started beautifully….a weekend of skiing in Steamboat Springs. Saturday was sunny and warm. The boys were full of energy and tackled
skiing like pros. We whooped and
hollered as we skied down the rolling greens off of Sunshine Express. We told jokes on the ski lift while I doled
out snacks to my ever-hungry boys. It
was the perfect day, and I basked not only in the sunshine, but also in the
reality that our children were enjoying an activity that my husband and I
love—skiing!
Sunday unfolded a little differently. Snow was moving in, so it was cloudy and
cold. Everyone but John was energetic
out of the gates. (He had taken a bad
fall the day before and had let fear take hold.) John was skiing so slowly that we separated
into two groups. Darin prodded John
along while I kept up with the die-hards (Jacob and Kenny). We skied a couple of runs when Kenny started
complaining about being cold. I
encouraged him to wiggle his fingers and toes, even turning the reminder into a
little rap. The complaining only grew
with intensity while I was frantically searching for the other half of our
party. Dead cell phones meant that we
were thrust back into the dark ages of meeting times and posting notes on dry
erase boards.
Kenny “hitting the wall” prompted a new plan. We sat on a bench in the snow and cold at the
top of the lift waiting for Darin and John to appear. We gave up after twenty minutes and started
the descent down the mountain to the gondola, which would provide us a warm
ride to the base. The trek to the
gondola included three more ski runs and two rides on chair lifts. Kenny cried the entire way. Jacob was stoic until the last chair lift
ride when he completely lost it. All the
while I was feeding them snacks, speaking words of encouragement, singing
songs, laughing…..
We made it to the gondola in one piece, though emptied of
tears. The last fifty yards were
questionable, as Kenny dropped his skies and couldn’t pull himself together for
the final stretch. An angel in the form
of a sombrero-wearing mountain photographer scooped up the skies with a smile
and got us on the gondola. As our car
floated down the mountain threw the blizzard, we all started to
decompress. The panicked crying of my
boys turned to finger sucking (Jacob) and wimpers over cold fingers
(Kenny). And my mind relaxed and
pondered our adventure.
I had pushed my boys to their breaking point. They were faced with a challenge, and they
had everything needed to overcome that challenge. I was with them every moment, showing them
the way, cheering them on, and giving them snacks! They persevered and made it through, but it
was painful trial rather than a fun adventure because they didn’t fully trust
in their mama who loved them.
This made me ponder how I approach each challenge God sends
my way. He always provides me with the
things I need to overcome the challenge, yet sometimes I let doubt and fear
steal my joy and perspective. I become
bogged down in the less-than-ideal conditions, and in the lack of visibility to
see where I’m going. Even though, all
the while, God is the good parent who is leading the way through the storm and
whispering His love for me. It’s in
these hard times that true growth occurs; when strength and wisdom are
increased. I believe that….now if I
could just convince my boys before our next challenging ski day!?
