Last week I shared about my first ever experience seeing snow, and my gutsy, yet prideful approach to the slopes. Needless to say, I wouldn’t classify my decision to forego skiing the rest of that trip as gutsy, but more out of sheer terror, and my new found liking for having both feet on solid ground.
Having visions of this moment in time was what led me to play it very safe on a skiing adventure in Snowshoe, West Virginia, a few years ago. It had been over twenty years since attempting snow again, and I was no longer the young, prideful adult I once was. I’d like to think I had matured a great deal. I was a mom now, and my outlook on life had changed.
The bus ride was long and crammed with great people. Some of them reminded me of the old days. Listening to them boast about which run they would conquer brought back all those memories of Steamboat Mountain. I chuckled inside as I pictured them jumping from the chair lift to make their way to the launching site. Then I imagined the excitement they would feel as they skied down the mountainside. Truth be told – that wasn’t the first thing I imagined. It was more like the sissy screaming I did as I skied down.
There was talk of green runs, blue runs, and black runs. The black runs were the most challenging of them all. All I wanted to know was where the bunny slopes were. I didn’t care for the pretty colors. I was more interested in flat land.
My teenage daughter sat there among the mix listening to all the chatter. She had never been skiing before. I was nervous for her knowing what I had been through. Questions raced through my mind – How would she do? Would she want to explore those more challenging runs? Would she make it to the black runs? Would she break a leg or have a yard sale? Would she allow the peer pressure to convince her she could ski beyond her current abilities, which at this point in time, were zero?
Only time would tell. I had to trust in the outcome. I had to let go and let God protect her on that mountain top.
1 Peter 1:8 says this, “Though you do not see him, you trust him.”
My footnote says this: “Trusting God means being confident in him even though we can’t see him.”
This trip would demand major trust in God to protect me and my child from the dangers of a sport we had become newly aquainted with.
Join me again for the rest of the story as I share what happened next.
Standing on the promises of God,
Jeanette Duby
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