We got to the ski rental shop bright and early. Our hopes were up, heads held high. The mountains were calling and we ached to be on the slopes. Right foot. Left foot. Measured and geared up, we left our scattered paperwork with the owner and headed out the door. As we drove round curves and soaked up the image of snow dusted trees, rich green with the sun, our hearts pounded faster. Faster still.
“Celeste?”
His voice startled me as I remembered I had to pay to get my pass for the ski lift. Next thing I knew, we were strapping into our skis and riding our way up the mountain on the lift. I was awestruck. I’d never been skiing, let alone seen real snow before. All my mind knew was a light Texan “ice day.” So I was completely captivated.
There weren’t any straps on the ski lift. Our legs hung off the edge, the weight of my skis reminding me not to fool with gravity. The lift was slow enough to allow me to take everything in. The trees that lined the mountainside. The skiers and snowboarders down below. This one man flew down the mountain with a kind of confidence gained only from years of practice. Another spun in and out of turns, taking each with stunning grace. Then, just when I thought I’d experienced it all, a fresh snow began to fall. Each flake sliding off my jacket but lingering on my face. They lingered long enough to give me a sweet, cold kiss. My nose was frigid and so were my lips, but my heart aflame with wonder.
“Ready?”
I gripped my ski poles tight, unaware of what to expect as my skis hit the snow. I started to fall forward. Panic set in and I veered into my friend, but we somehow both managed to stay upright. Looking at each other, we burst into laughter. Okay, this isn’t so hard. All of my friends except for one had been skiing before, so I trusted their judgment when they told me we’d all start together on the green. That color was the easiest they told me. Let’s stay together they told me.
“Ready, set, go.”
They told me.
As I set out down the mountain, I felt the most alive I’ve probably ever felt. As I hit the snow head first, the feeling vanished. Great. I continued to do this over and over again. My arms and legs beginning to burn from every time I had to get up again. The time between each fall gradually became longer and longer until I was able to ski down the entire green slope without falling. The feeling returned. I am fully alive.
I never managed to stay with my group. Their speed and skill surpassed mine, but Grant, the most experienced skier from our group, stayed with me. He was patient every time I fell and wouldn’t leave my side.
Talking it over with the rest of the group, we all decided to try a green slope. We dropped off the ski lift and began our descent. My breath quickened. The slope was extremely steep and I kept pulling off to the edges, fear deteriorating my determination. I lost sight of the end and began to panic. I can’t do this. I’m not going to do this. Everyone was out of sight, except for Grant. He continued to encourage me down the hill. I fell over and over again. Nothing but the bottom. All I wanted was to be at the bottom. I wanted to relax, but every muscle in me did otherwise. I wanted to breathe, but the air escaped me. My teeth chattered as I continued my slow descent.
Unable to persist at such a slow rate, I let go. I finally, completely released all of my inhibition.
“On your right!” I managed to scream out as I barely avoided the person in front of me. The wind whipped my skin. Faster. And faster. I could barely keep upright. Still, I leaned forward. Before I knew it, I could see the bottom and relief swept over me.
The moment vanished.
I saw white.
Again.
As I lifted myself up to sitting position, I laughed, a loud and unashamed laugh. Snow flew around me as an employee from the resort skidded to a stop.
“You okay?”
“Haha, yeah. First day, ya know?”
He smiled.
And I think I shed a tear. So glad in that moment to be wearing goggles. Not that vulnerable quite yet. He left, flying down the rest of the slope. Shifting my weight onto my left leg, I grabbed my ski poles and lifted myself onto both feet. I brushed the snow off my back and legs. Okay, let’s try this again. I made it to the bottom in a few seconds and breathed a sigh of accomplishment.
I know I’ll ski again one day. But I hear the bunny slope is pretty empty. I’ll go there so I don’t cram the colored slopes. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt from a crowd. Ya know? 😉
Shoutout to Grant:
And the rest of the crew:
Job 37:5-6
God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding. He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’
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