To Go on Living

     I always feel a simultaneous horror and delight when about to go skiing.  The horror is of course from envisioning all the trees that could step in front of me while I am on a wild careening free fall, or the bitter cold slowly wrenching the protoplasm from the cells in my nose, or perhaps falling and splintering every tiny bone in my body. The delight is obvious, however. Careening free falls down hills dotted with snow speckled trees, invigorating cold mountain air, the feeling of using every tiny bone in my body.

     There is fresh snow on the slopes, the car was packed three weeks ago for the trip that kept getting cancelled, and the roads are clear.  The trip I organized for area homeschoolers looks like it is going to really happen. i found myself waking at various points in the night and groaning, and then smiling.  I think it is safe to say that I am crazy. I love risk, but it terrifies me.  I confess, probably to my shame, that I never look forward to something with pure joy. There is inevitably a sense of foreboding as well. Usually once I am in the situation, that duality passes, and I am one with the moment.

     Paul of the Bible could identify, I think. He tells us that while he longs to be with Jesus and out of this world of trouble, He also longs to stay and do God's will here on Earth. That conflicting pull of heaven and earth is present in nearly all of life, I think. Follow the ways of heaven or the ways of earth?

Delight in men's approval, or God's? I am not sure it is possible to have both. One is just a foster home. The other is permanent.

     "Vicky, good grief, you are just going skiing! You never get off the green easy slopes. Does everything have to turn into some deep, poetic musing?"

     I hang my head, " I am not very good at just going with the flow."

     "I'll say! For once would you just enjoy the blessings of God?"

     "Yes, yes, I will!" I cry, strapping helmet, ankle, wrist, and knee braces and tucking my will in my pocket, with the numbers of next of kin.

Philippians 1:20-25 NIV

I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith,

Fantastic Being

     Well, some slopes are open on the ski mountain, but the group decided that it was not water skiing they were after...and after a string of 60 degree days, the manmade snow was really more like manmade soup. So instead, we will look forward to a full day of exciting homeschool, learning about such perennial favorites as the Civil War, inhumane factory conditions, and maybe even a worm dissection.
     As you can imagine, Asherel is disappointed.
     But as I lay in bed this morning, I felt a distinct urging in my heart to look on the world with a more upbeat perspective. There is so much disappointment in life that it is sometimes very easy to wallow in it.
     I often pass a happy person on my neighborhood walks. She is an ex-principal of an elementary school. She is just the sort of person that should have been involved in childrens' lives. Every single time I see her, I always say, "How are you?" and she always answers, "Fantastic!"
     Always.
     Now we all know that no one is always fantastic. But if we dig deeply enough, somewhere we can find something of that level of delight. The word fantastic is derived from the Greek phantastikos, which roughly translates, producing mental images (e.g. fantasy). I find this quite liberating. I suspect that is also the origin of the ex-principal's state of constant fantasticness.  If I can just produce mental images of optimistic delight, I can be fantastic every day too!
     I remember the recent visit home. I went with my mom to the doc's office  to have her stitches removed.
     "Think calming thoughts!" I called after her, "Like green pastures and still waters!"
     So as I lay in bed this morning, conjuring fantastic thoughts, this is what I came up with:    

Psalm 23

 ¹The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
 ²He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
 ³He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
 ⁴Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
 ⁵Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
 ⁶Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

Unexpected Rewards

     A huge package arrived at my doorstep yesterday. It came from  Williams Sonoma. I know little about this store except it is very expensive and exclusive and I could not imagine who would be sending me an enormous gift from such a place.
     I put the box on the counter and went back to work. I had called Comer, our elderly friend at the Nursing Home earlier in the week to suggest a Christmas Lights outing. I thought his wife Evelyn, even with Alzheimers eating away at her brain, would enjoy looking for homes covered with Christmas decorations. I had already put two Christmas music CDs in the car, knowing that Evelyn might not speak, but she would sing.
     "Hello," croaked Comer, answering the phone.
     "Comer! You don't sound so good."
     "I feel awful. Thought I was going to die."
     "Oh dear! I am so sorry! What is it?"
    "Feels like some flu, or bad sinus infection.I haven't left my bed in three days."
"Oh my! Well I was calling to invite you out to look at Christmas lights this week...but maybe we should wait til next week?"
"Yes, I couldn't go anywhere this week. I feel too poorly. I am getting better. I should be fine by next week."
"I know in the past Evelyn doesn't do well at night. Do you think she would be ok if we go out in the evening but we will go as soon as the sun sets?" Evelyn, like many people afflicted with Alzheimers, would sometimes become agitated at night. At least she used to. Since moving to the new facility where Comer was just down the hall, she had been doing much better emotionally.
"Oh, I don't know. You know she never speaks at all anymore. Still sings though."
"Well I have lots of Christmas music for her to sing. Listen, why don't you check with her nurse and let me know? We could go next week if you are feeling better."
"Oh, I am sure I will be," he said.
"Well then you rest, and I will call you next week. We will get yummy food and hot chocolate and go find beautiful homes dressed up for Christmas."
"Thank you darling," he said, his voice gravelly and strained.
     I hung up and returned to my computer woes. I had developed a GoogleGroup list for the Homeschool Ski Club I was forming, and already there were problems. Half the people had not received the invitation to join the Google Group, which meant I had to go back to my inbox, find every one who had written but not joined the group and then try to find another way to add them to the Group. I had been at it for hours.
     Volunteer work just doesn't pay, I thought. I glanced at the huge Sonoma Williams box. What could that be, and who had sent it? I didn't want to spoil a Christmas surprise by opening the card, but curiosity was overcoming my hesitance. I put it under the tree and my forehead grazed the sparkling Crystal Squirrel ornament. It spun on a silver thread, little blue gems in the eyes shimmery points of color. Every year, Asherel and I go out to look for one crystal ornament to add to our tree. My tree is decorated in all crystal clear onrnaments and white lights. It is very elegant. My mom had a tree like that, and I loved the simple elegance of it, so continued that tradition in our own home. Asherel and I usually take quite a while to agree on the yearly ornament, but as soon as we saw the squirrel, we both knew this was the one we wanted.
     "It reminds me of Squirrel Nutkin!" I said happily. Nutkin was a baby squirrel that had fallen from a tree in our yard a few years ago, rescued by Lucky from the freezing rain, and then restored to health by us. Ultimately, since he was only 6 weeks old when we saved him, we brought him to a rehab specialist who released him safely to the wild when he was fully grown. Asherel and I had loved our few weeks nursing the little baby who had almost died back to health.
     "Yes, let's get that one," said Asherel.
     I smiled at my little squirrel ornament and the happy memories it evoked.Then I sobered as I looked back at the computer and rubbed my wrist.The tendonitis from all my computer work was flaring and every word I typed hurt. But I had to fix the issues with the skiing google group. I had volunteered, and like it or not, I had to follow through now. I glanced at the mysterious package under the slowly swinging crystal squirrel. I could stand the suspense no longer. I opened the card on the giant expensively wrapped box.
     "Thank you for your kindness to my parents," the card said. It was from Comer and Evelyn's daughter.

Luke 14:

¹³ But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, ¹⁴ and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
¹⁵ When one of those at the table with him heard this, he said to Jesus, “Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God.”

Kindness and Paying it Forward

     The list is completely prepared with neat little boxes to check off. In one week, we get to ski! I have had an overwhelming response to my organizing the homeschool ski groups to Sugar Mountain, thus the rates are good and we can afford this otherwise impossibly pricey love of ours. 
     One friend wrote me, very concerned that I was taking on an enormous task and had no idea how inundated I would be. She offered to help me develop an online form so that people could register without me having to email back and forth to get all the info I needed. It took me all day, even with her expert help, but in the end, the form was complete. At one point, after several back and forths, the friend was ready to give up on me. I could tell. She wrote, "Maybe it would be easier for you to just send out emails." However, she stuck with me, and I did finally produce a very fine form that will help me in streamlining the process.
     Another stranger wrote, a fellow homeschooler.
"This is an enormous task you are taking on, " she warned, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
     Yet another stranger wrote and said that since she didn't ski, but would be bringing her kids, she would volunteer to hand out the ski tickets so that once I had the registration set, I could go ski myself.
Every homeschooler who emailed me asking to join the ski group list, thanked me profusely, saying that for the typical one income earning homeschool family, skiing was a sport none of them could otherwise afford. I agree. The only way we ever got involved with it was because of the kindness of some homeschool families in Asheville who organized huge groups of homeschoolers and secured group rates at the mountains. When I am done homeschooling, my skiing days will probably end...unless I become a world famous top selling writer. My suspicion is I will have to find a less expensive sport to indulge in...like knitting.
     Our ability to do this wonderful thing was due to the kindness of strangers. More and more in life, I see strangers reaching out to others. I just read in 2 Samuel where King David regains his throne and wants to offer kindness to anyone left of Saul's family when King Saul and son Jonathan are killed in battle. This is a remarkable gesture on many levels, not the least of which being I have correctly spelled the name of the person that David ends up showing kindness to (Mephibosheth!).
     Saul had been relentlessly pursuing David to kill him, out of the rage of jealousy. David evaded Saul and refused to lift a hand against the "Lord's anointed one." Mephiposheth, Jonathan's son, was crippled when his nurse dropped him, fleeing David's army. She assumed that since Saul wanted to kill David, David would want to kill any offspring of Saul or his sons.
     David instead, ends up extending kindness to Mephibosheth, the lame son of Jonathan, bringing Mephiposheth to the palace to eat at the King's table for the rest of his life. It is a beautiful picture of the grace extended to us in all our crippling sinfulness from the King of Kings. In running from God, we become crippled. Fear sometimes prevents us from returning to the author of our hope. Yet the King is willing and anxious to seek us out, to show His love and mercy, to welcome us back to His table of bounty.
    Now I am a little concerned that in my musing about skiing, and kindness, I am also imagining lame, crippled people. This is the downside of skiing. It is downright dangerous.

Genesis 21: 22-23
“God is with you in everything you do. ²³ Now swear to me here before God that you will not deal falsely with me or my children or my descendants. Show to me and the country where you now reside as a foreigner the same kindness I have shown to you.”

Advisories

There is a winter advisory for the mountains! That means snow may soon be here. I think it is awfully considerate of the weather station to offer an advisory to the snow. When snow arrives, it will be advised of all its rights: the right to peaceably assemble, the right to bear arms (and legs of skiers, but not to break them), and the right to remain silent. This is important because half the beauty of snow is its silence.

Just in case I was not harried and irritable with overwork enough as it is, I took on the effort of organizing Charlotte Homeschool Ski groups for outings to my favorite mountain in the area. I got enormous interest immediately and should have no trouble getting the minimum group number for the discount- in fact, I will probably have to limit group size so that I don't spend the whole ski day handing out tickets. I think I should parlay this into book sales. For every ski ticket purchased, skiers must also buy my book. It will be my own little winter advisory.

There is an awful lot of bad advice. It is very important to be careful whose advice you listen to. I am finishing up the book of 2 Samuel, and am once again amazed at the treachery of Absalom. He was David's son, and he plotted with his advisers to seize the kingdom from his father. In the end, Absalom was killed. Poor David mourned doubly- first the son's betrayal, and then the son's death. I cannot imagine coping with that kind of grief. I kept wishing Absalom would listen to wise counsel and turn from his evil path. He never did. There are many messages in this story, but I do think one warning is that we should choose carefully whom and what we listen to. Especially with the onslaught of information in the age of the internet, we are bombarded with conflicting views on just about every subject. I find myself reeling in indecision after considering all the viewpoints about just a simple matter like drinking juice : pros and cons. And then, like a breath of clean mountain air on a snowy slope, I open the Bible, my Spiritual Advisory. This is something I can breathe in safely,  trust in, and base my plans on.

Jeremiah 18: 17-19
¹⁷ Like a wind from the east,
   I will scatter them before their enemies;
I will show them my back and not my face
   in the day of their disaster.”
 ¹⁸ They said, “Come, let’s make plans against Jeremiah; for the teaching of the law by the priest will not cease, nor will counsel from the wise, nor the word from the prophets. So come, let’s attack him with our tongues and pay no attention to anything he says.”
 ¹⁹ Listen to me, LORD;
   hear what my accusers are saying!

Helmets in season and out of season

On the record near hottest day of the year, we went shopping for snowboard helmets. I always do my winter shopping in summer. I usually save 50-75%. Presuming this isn't the end of the world, much as recent events would suggest it might be, Asherel needs a snow board helmet. She had been wearing her bicycle helmet the past two ski seasons, but sport helmets are specialized for a reason. The number one reason is, of course, that the helmet companies want to make money. The second reason is that a bike helmet covers only the top of the head, but a snowboard helmet circumnavigates the skull.  Lining the helmets of various sports up against each other, it is easy to determine which sport is most likely to shatter one's skull into tiny fragments.

We found a helmet that was 50% off because it was a 2010 model. It fit Asherel, was a pretty  1970's countertop green, and the price was right.
"You should get a helmet too," said Asherel.
"Why? My bike helmet is fine.... Wait.....Do I embarrass you skiing in my bike helmet?"
"Oh no," she said quickly, "Why would a 50 year old woman skiing in a child's pink with purple flower bike helmet embarrass me?"
I bought a snowboard helmet at the sharply reduced rate as well.

Truth be told, I hate wearing helmets. They never quite fit my small head correctly (which is why I wear a pink child's bike helmet) and they rub my hair and pull on it. However, I do realize that helmets are a safeguard, and sensible, and it is foolish to take up a high speed, crazy sport like skiing or snowboarding without wearing a helmet.

And, helmets are biblical. God warns us in both the new and the old Testaments to "put on the helmet of salvation."  Helmets protect the head, the part of the body that thinks, sees, hears, smells, and tastes. If we want our senses and our thoughts to be safe, we put on a helmet of salvation. Evil lurks as real to the believer (or anyone...) as the likelihood of a fall lurks in the day of a snowboarder. Only a fool refuses to wear a helmet, or pretends he will never fall.

Putting on the snowboard helmet was easy, once I found the right size- xxs.  How does one put on a "helmet of salvation", however?  Fortunately, we don't even have to do that ourselves. If we believe in Jesus, He does it for us. And fortunately, we don't even need to wait for a sale on salvation, out of season. It is always free!

Ephesians 6:16-18

¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 

Isaiah 59:17

He put on righteousness as his breastplate, and the helmet of salvation on his head

1 Thessalonians 5: 8-10

⁸ But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. ⁹ For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. ¹⁰ He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. 

LIke a Banner on a Hill

Our gear clattered to the floor as we slid into the desk at the ski lodge to check in.
"Do they have time to get their stuff on and make the lesson?" I asked breathlessly.
 Originally, we had not planned on a snowboard lesson, but then on the drive, the kids seemed to feel if they could get a lesson beyond rank beginner, it could be useful. It was included in the rental cost anyway. We had to fly into our ski clothes and racewalk to the lodge as the lesson started very soon.
"They are past beginners," I said, "They can stop and turn and stay upright most of the time."
"The intermediate lesson starts in 5 minutes," she said.
I didn't ask what kind of skill they might need to do an intermediate lesson. We were in too big a hurry. I just hustled Asherel and Ben into their gear and shoved them out the door. It occurred to me belatedly that intermediate might not be their level.

As I saw their teacher leading them to a blue diamond hill, the feeling became a certainty. There are three levels of colors , sometimes four, to designate skill level needed to successfully make it down the slope without the aid of a medic and helicopter. Green is for beginners. That is the hightest level my snowboarders had tackled. Blue is intermediate, or more difficult. Black is suicidal. or impossible for people with fully functioning cerebrums.

The kids did not seem to notice the color of the diamond as they boarded the chair lift. I followed at a distance, like Judas. Oh Lord, forgive me, I thought as I climbed into the chair lift behind them and we went up up up. The sound of skiers and snowboarders crashing and tumbling came from both sides.  I had been on a blue diamond hill last trip and so knew what to expect. Since Ben and Asherel still thought they were on a beginner, maybe advanced beginner hill, they did not know what to expect. I saw them at the top of the mountain and whispered, "Will you be ok?"
Asherel waved me away. I don't blame her. She sure better hang on every word of the instructor if she hoped to make it to Saturday unscathed.

It is interesting how perceptions color responses and actions. The teacher assumed they were intermediate snowboarders. Not someone who had been on a snowboard a grand total of twice, like Ben. The kids assumed that I would not put them in a situation they were not prepared to survive, and thus thought this must be a beginner slope. And so for the next hour, they all snowboarded under that illusion, and when the lesson ended, wanted to spend the whole afternoon on that slope.

"I was shocked to see him lead you to a blue diamond hill," I said, "You guys were awesome."
"That was a blue diamond hill?" asked Ben.
They both smiled, a little incredulously.
"I wouldn't have gone on a blue diamond hill myself," he admitted.
And I wouldn't have wanted you to, I admitted.

This was a classic example of rising to the occasion. Within a few runs, both kids were racing down the mountain without falling at all. It really was miraculous to me. I stood on the mountaintop looking out over the incredible vista and thought about perceptions, and misperceptions.

Isaiah is my favorite prophet. I love the imagery in his words. He has quite a bit to say about mountaintops and misperceptions.  He berates his people because they refuse to see truth. They want to listen only to prophets who bathe them in false illusions. He says they crumble and flee at the first sign of trouble, and will be left all alone, like a banner on a mountaintop. He begs them to see the truth, the right way, the error of their deceitful hearts....yet they would have none of it. They preferred a fantasy that required no repentence, no righteous action on their part. But Isaiah told them that even then, even in the midst of their stubborn desire to promote their own interests in the face of God's convicting truths, even then, God longed for them to return to Him.

It is so easy to fall into self deception, to think we can stand alone atop a mountain, that the world revolves around our interests, that we don't need to listen to the clear commands of our Creator. Isaiah warns us that it is the hand of God that must lead us down the right path.

I've been on black diamond slopes of life, and I sure don't want to navigate those without God hanging on to me. Ben and Asherel made it safely down a mountain that was beyond their skill under the protection of a skillful guide. And soon, they could navigate it on their own, because they knew the way. I love that image, the one that will have to hold me til next ski season, as this was our last trip for this season. The snow is melting, the days are warming, and so soon I will be seeking new ways to endanger life and limb.



Isaiah 30: 10-12, 15, 17-18

Tell us pleasant things,
   prophesy illusions.
¹¹ Leave this way,
   get off this path,
and stop confronting us
   with the Holy One of Israel!”  ¹² Therefore this is what the Holy One of Israel says:
   “Because you have rejected this message,
   relied on oppression
   and depended on deceit,

 “In repentance and rest is your salvation,
   in quietness and trust is your strength,
   but you would have none of it.

you will all flee away,
till you are left
   like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
   like a banner on a hill.”

 ¹⁸ Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
   therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
   Blessed are all who wait for him!

Mother Nature Lies

It was a near record high yesterday.  So of course, it made sense to schedule our last ski trip of the year for today. Goodbye winter. Hello summer. I broomed the front porch, washed the car, wore a short sleeved tshirt, watched the robins pecking at the new grass seed.
It won't last. Midweek forecast is destined to plunge us all into deep depression. I like winter, but when warmth taunts me, I don't like it any more.

We only have 2 weeks left til Science Olympiad, and only 10 weeks left of school. I have spring fever. I am impatient for all the hard work to be done.

It never is done though. It just changes to new and different hard work.
I wonder if the robins ever look at each other and lament, "This stinks. I mean, all we ever do is pull recalcitrant rubber worms out of hard packed earth. Tug tug tug. All day long, all life long."
I wonder if any of them ever have midlife crises, where they decide they will not eat another worm. Do they decide to just keep heading further south and go to Tahiti and lounge on the beach instead, drinking Mimosas and having their toenails clipped by a handsome bluebird?

"You feel this way at the end of every winter, Robby."
"Yes Roberta, I do, but this year I mean it. I am sick of frozen worms, and shivering when spring is not really here but just faked it....again."
"Sprng will come and you will have a complete change of heart. You will be glad again that you are a robin and can perch in the tree amid the blossoming dogwood."
"Not this time. This time I mean it. No more early birding to get the worm. I am sleeping in and waiting til summer to venture North. These false springs are killing me."

So I am being proactive. Snow and cold is expected in the mountains. Rather than hanging out in the flirting sunshine that we know is just teasing us, I will head to one last fling with Old Man Winter. Then back to the homestretch. I find it strange that those last few moments before victory is in sight are sometimes the hardest. Spring is just around the corner.... why is it suddenly so hard to wait?

Abraham had the same problem. God promised him that he would be the father of many nations, but Abraham was an old man, and Sarah was not producing even one small heir, let alone many nations. So Abrahan took matters into his own hands, and had an heir, Ishmael, through his maid servant Haggar. Then surprise, surprise, Sarah ended up getting pregnant with Isaac and poor Ishmael was out of luck.  A whole assortment of new problems arose as a result. You can't force Spring. Sometimes, you must wait.

And eat frozen worms.

Deuteronomy 11:13-15

 ¹³ So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the LORD your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul— ¹⁴ then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil. ¹⁵ I will provide grass in the fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be satisfied.

Into the Fog

"Mrs. Kaseorg, Can you see the road?"
"No."
"How do you know where to drive?"
"I am making educated guesses."
"When will you know if you guess wrong?"
"When we are hurtling off the edge of the mountain. I suggest you practice 'tuck and roll'."

The fog gave new meaning to "so thick you could cut it with a knife." I would have turned around but I could not see to either side of the steep, winding road climbing to the tallest ski mountain in NC. I was going 5 miles an hour, at times less, and straining to see the center line of the road. If I kept just a few inches to the right of that, I hoped (prayed) that we would make it to the top. I was bringing Asherel and her friends Alex and Ben to snowboard. It was spooky in that ghostly, milky white. How on earth could we ski in this? Had we just driven three hours for nothing? Well, not for nothing. We had driven three hours to endanger life and limb. The adrenalin rush driving in the fog was more than I ever got skiing.

Finally we reached the parking lot. We could not see the mountain, the lodge , or anything  except fog and the few people within inches of us gliding silently by. I had never tried to ski in fog. I don't have much experience with this sport. And I was responsible for 3 young souls.
"Excuse me?" I asked a skier returning to his car, materializing like a specter from the gloom, "Can you ski in this stuff?"
"It's not easy," he said, "You have to go slow."

Surprisingly the parking lot was mobbed. All these people couldn't be wrong, could they? So we got our equipment and lift tickets and hustled Ben off to his lesson for his first snowboard experience. I knew the kids would not leave the bunny slope so they were in little danger. But at this point, the bunny slope was not fun for me so I headed to find a chair lift. The fog was so thick that I couldn't see chairlifts, or any slopes. but eventually I asked enough people to steer me to the right place, and climbed on the chairlift taking me to a slope I was told was for beginners, but was shrouded completely in the cloud dancing on earth.

It was eerily silent on the chair lift, sound muffled by the fog. Skiers right below me would glide into view and then fade away into whiteness. Visible life was only a few hundred feet in any direction. The rest of the world could have been Mars. It was very disconcerting, yet oddly peaceful having that limited vision, all visual choices narrowed to the world immediately around me. It is not often in life that so much of the madness around you is suddenly shut off, obliterated.

I rode the quiet chairlift through the cloud and thought of God. They say when you die, you see a long white tunnel with light at the end. All around you is whiteness. Near-death survivors speak very similarly of this sensation. There is a little too much going on in my life right now. Maybe always....School, science olympiad in 2 weeks, fixing our projects so we won't be humiliated, a painting for Matt's wedding to finish, a painting of a pitbull to start for Hollow Creek Farm, the rehearsal dinner to plan, the travel and tux and dress arrangements to be made for the wedding, the dogs and upcoming agility trial, the elderly grandma that should not be living alone but is still fighting any efforts to convince her otherwise, the constant struggle to be what God wants me to be.....It all clamors and bumps against me.

But here, all alone on a chairlift in the milky fog, quietly going up up up into the whiteness, it was all shrouded, quieted, momentarily gone.  I would not have asked for fog had God been sending out a request form, but I realized that perhaps fog is exactly what I needed that day.

The fog had dissipated on the road up the mountain, and our drive down was easy and uneventful. The glorious vistas that we had not seen on the harrowing drive up were revealed. Mountains and mountains in receding shades of blue filled the horizon. The kids chattered away, bursting with the success of their snowboarding. I said little, wrapped in the memory of the peaceful whiteness.

Isaiah 44:
²² I have swept away your offenses like a cloud,
   your sins like the morning mist.
Return to me,
   for I have redeemed you.”  ²³ Sing for joy, you heavens, for the LORD has done this;
   shout aloud, you earth beneath.
Burst into song, you mountains,
   you forests and all your trees,
for the LORD has redeemed Jacob,
   he displays his glory in Israel.

Ascents and Descents

The phone rang but I ignored it. I never answer the phone when I am teaching art class as I don't want to deprive the kids of one second of my wisdom. After a brief silence it rang again. I still ignored it. It rang a third time and I went to see who was calling. An unknown number. Probably a telemarketer. I returned to my art class where one of the students held up his phone- "Leigh's mom wants to talk to you...."

Lucky, the dog who cannot exist without a day of mischief, had been left loose with his electronic collar on so he could greet the students who came in through the open gate. He had busted out of the electric fence. And now Deenee, my art student's mom, had him in the street, but he didn't want to go back through the electric fence. She had called my home phone three times. I was grumbling about the stupid dog and wondering why Deenee didn't just take off the electric collar to coerce him back in the yard.... when I saw her and Lucky in the street. She was on crutches with a cast on one leg. She held Lucky, tottering on her crutches.

Do you ever feel like you have made really poor choices? You weigh the options, choose a course of action, and then feel like a jerk with the full result of your choices slamming you in the face? And stupid poor choices are one thing. Morally poor choices totally another. Those are accompanied by regret and shame as well as feeling like a knucklehead. I cannot begin to express how deeply I long for wisdom.... for continual, reliable wisdom. And goodness. It just doesn't flow out of me the way it should after all these years of walking with God. It is funny that despite having the world's worst memory, I remember in excruciating clarity every poor choice I have made,  and continue to make. Those haunt me, tugging with icy fingers at my joie de vivre.

Asherel spent another frustrating many days and countless hours on her helicopter, and we did a test flight yesterday morning. After all that work, again, failure. The new wire attachment idea worked, so it didn't break, but it flapped to the ground. She picked it up and the wound rubber band rewound with a resounding smack against her newly repaired rotor, breaking it....again. And then she realized that on both the newly repaired copters, she had attached the rotors backwards. They were flying exactly as they should with rotors pushing them down, down, down....towards Hell.  My usually good natured girl is very close to the breaking point. The very air around her is crystalized...ready to shatter with one more setback.

She went back to work. I went back to prayer. Finally she reemerged with the repaired copters and a woebegone look on her face.
"It won't work," she said.
"Let's try it, " I urged, sighing deeply. I have come to loathe Science Olympiad.
I thought of the highschool student in my art class who is doing the highschool division of the helicopter event.
He has still not started building his, nor researching, nor gathering supplies....and there are now 3 weeks til the contest.
"I suggest you start," I warned grimly.
So we wound Asherel's rubber motor, and she lifted her hand, her face downcast. The helicopter rose out of her hand, and one of the rotors flew off the copter, spiralling to the ground. Miraculously, on just three rotors the helicopter flew for about 20 seconds. This bodes well for what it will do with 4 working rotors.
"Fix it and call that one done. We won't test it again til the team meeting."
There is only so much stress a twig can take before it snaps.

So once again, we are leaving our 70 hour weeks behind and going skiing today. The mountains have fresh powder that was supposed to fall all night but stop conveniently in time for the plows to clear the roads. Asherel and I need to purposely race downward instead of being dragged down against our will.

Continual failure and set backs marked the journey of the Jewish people out of Egypt into the promised land. Some of the failure was due to their own stubborn disobedience, and some due to the evil idolatry and corruption of the people in the lands they traveled through. Any way about it, the Jews struggled in a perpetual see-saw between trusting and following God with joyful wholeheartedness, and giving over into sin and despair over failure after failure after failure. What Asherel, Lucky, and I are experiencing is nothing new. Failure and setbacks are a part of life, sometimes a huge part. Somehow, one has to waddle through the mud of tribulation.

I have a few favorite verses in the Bible, but the past few mornings, one in particular keeps coming back to me, "I lift mine eyes unto the hills. Where does my help come from? "  Yes, I can identify with that despair, looking all around wondering when will triumph blast its trumpet in my ear? I know Asherel can relate. But the rest of the verse is the part that suddenly covers me with relief and peace:
"My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth."

To the snow covered hills we will lift our eyes today. The creator or heaven and earth will hopefully be working on the helicopter while we are gone.......

Psalm 121

A song of ascents. ¹ I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
   where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the LORD,
   the Maker of heaven and earth.
 ³ He will not let your foot slip—
   he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
   will neither slumber nor sleep.
 ⁵ The LORD watches over you—
   the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
   nor the moon by night.
 ⁷ The LORD will keep you from all harm—
   he will watch over your life;
⁸ the LORD will watch over your coming and going
   both now and forevermore.

"Easy" trails

Who would pay for bruises, wrenched necks, frozen finger tips, moments of paralyzing fear, and humiliation? We would! In fact, we did. Four of us paid for the privilege to hurtle down a mountain in freezing cold with almost 100% assurance of at least minor injury.

We drove three hours, and with one minute to go til we reached our destination, we had still not seen a speck of snow. Then we pulled into a mostly empty parking lot, and what looked like a ski lodge with no sign of life in it. There was a mountain behind it....with some snow. The top looked bare. No wonder it was so cheap to ski here! We all looked at each other.

"Is it open?" asked Asherel.
"I'll go find out," I said.
I bravely entered the ghost town. There were only 3 or 4 runs open on the mountain, the rest was too patchy.... but they were open for business. They did have a bunny slope, an easy trail, and then the dreaded Black Diamond trail that only suicidal maniacs attempt.

We brought an expert with us this time. Danielle has four seasons of snowboarding under her snow boots and is already tackling black diamond runs. For those of you who are more sane and don't ski, a black diamond run is a trail down the mountain that is formed by dropping a 40 ton rock straight through the earth. The resulting path is vertical to within .00008 margin of error. Some people prefer to just parachute down Black Diamond runs, others prefer to start off on skis and then finish the run on the ski patrol toboggan, strapped in with life preserving chemicals and air being pumped into their body. I think it is safe to say that I will never go on a Black Diamond trail.

We also brought Alex, a rank beginner and friend of Asherel's. Danielle worked with Asherel while Alex had her beginner lesson with the ski school. I was thus free to go off and ski by myself, being fully trained now with one full lesson from my first outing.   I toodled around on the bunny slope, watching the kids and Danielle. Danielle worked her magic instructing Asherel, and after an hour, I had maxed out on the bunny slope. Danielle and I headed to the one operating chair lift, leaving the beginner snowboarding kids to practice seeing just how big and dark a bruise they could sustain and still stand.

The chairlift would take us half way up the mountain to the "easy" slope, or if we stayed on the chair at great risk to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, it would take us to the mouth of the dreaded Black Diamond run.  I clutched the hand bar of the lift and asked Danielle only about 604 times how we would know where to get off so we would not inadvertently travel to the top of the mountain, where of course certain death awaited me. To her credit she did not roll her eyes. She assured me it would be obvious....even to me.

And it was. The chair doesn't slow down. There is a big yellow sign that says "GET OFF!!!" or something like that, and another sign that says, "ONLY EXPERT SKIERS WITH EXPLICIT DEATH WISHES SHOULD REMAIN ON LIFT TO TOP OF MOUNTAIN."  So at the big yellow sign, you raise the hand bar if you are able to pry your clutching fingers off of it, and then you push forward on your seat and jump a little onto a steep decline. In theory, you then ski out of the way of the chair lift, and come to a graceful stop at a plateau area, where you survey a GULP steep icy descent that is way longer, steeper,  and icier than the bunny slope.
"Are you sure this is the easy trail?" I asked Danielle.
She nodded.
"It is not as easy as the one at Sugar, is it?" (Sugar is the last place I skied and its easy trail was not half as steep or long as this easy trail. Nor was it covered in icy granules like this easy trail.)
"No," she admitted.
"I didn't think so," I said. I stood on the precipice wondering how I was going to get down. Danielle was still smiling, latching up her snowboard to her free foot, as though she thought this was going to be fun.

"Cowabunga!" I said. This would have made Asherel run off with the nearest other adult so no one would think she was related to me, but Danielle didn't seem overly mortified. I like Danielle.

And off I hurtled. Actually, my first run down the slope, I snowplowed the whole way, so I didn't hurtle. I actually crawled. Danielle waited about half an hour for me to catch her at the bottom. My legs were shaking from a workout of muscles that had never before been called into action. But I was alive, and had not fallen once. And when I was able to straighten my legs again, Danielle asked if I was ready to try it again.
NO....but.... how would I ever improve if I didn't challenge myself to do something that was just a tad beyond me? I thought of Asherel and her helicopter, that pesky Science Olympiad helicopter that after months of work...still wasn't quite flying. But it was almost there.....almost....just try a little harder......

"Let's go," I told Danielle. The second time, I didn't grip the hand rail quite so hard, and I knew where to slide off the chair at the halfway point. And this time down the mountain, I only snowplowed half the time. I started doing curves and turns back and forth across the wide open expanse. And I was having the time of my life.
"AGAIN!" I told Danielle.
By the third time, I was going fast, with Danielle right with me. Of course fast is a relative term, and Danielle was braking alot, but I was no longer scared and I was skiing, really skiing, not just doing an extended brake.

Sometimes you have to push yourself a little beyond what you think you can bear. And sometimes it leads to disaster, and broken bones.... but sometimes it leads to ecstasy that you might never have known otherwise.

Psalm 90: selected verses
 ¹ Lord, you have been our dwelling place
   throughout all generations.
² Before the mountains were born
   or you brought forth the whole world,
   from everlasting to everlasting you are God⁹ All our days pass away under your wrath;
   we finish our years with a moan.
¹⁰ Our days may come to seventy years,
   or eighty, if our strength endures;
yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow,
   for they quickly pass, and we fly away. ¹² Teach us to number our days,
   that we may gain a heart of wisdom.  ¹⁷ May the favor^[a] of the Lord our God rest on us;
   establish the work of our hands for us—
   yes, establish the work of our hands.

Joy in Victory

This picture I drew is not really what the mountain looked like. It is what it would have looked like if all the mountains around it were covered in snow.... but they weren't. The only mountain that had snow was the ski resort mountain, and obviously, its snow was imported. It is the kind of snowy mountain I love- perfectly dry, safe, and 50 degree sunny roads to drive on to reach it. Then wham, it explodes into view amidst the brown and blue mountains around it- a solitary winter wonderland, speckled with little spots skiing happily down its steep slope.

Now that you have the setting in your mind, I don't mean to brag but....
First of all, whenever someone says "I don't mean to brag," they always really do mean to brag, but they don't want you to think they are conceited, so they start off with that caveat.  So in the New Year, I will start with a refreshingly honest refrain: "I DO mean to brag...."

The group ski instructor after teaching us for an hour said, "You guys are all ready to move on to the bigger slope. I have never done that with a class before you you really are the best group I have ever had. Do you want to do the chairlift and try Easy Street?"
I know he wasn't just trying to butter us up, because when a fellow instructor skied by, he whispered to him (I was standing near and had devised a clever ear horn with a cupped hand and rolled up paper tube so I mistakenly overheard....), "This group is incredible. Best I ever had! I am thinking of taking them up Easy Street."
Now Easy Street is still classified as an easy slope, but it is about 8 times longer than the bunny slope, and has some steep portions. It is also lined by cliffs. Mistakes would not be advantageous to one's health, I am thinking. I had been on a chair lift only once, and terrified.  But I DO mean to brag, unlike with snow-boarding, I really got skiing, and was having no trouble turning, stopping, or even staying upright. My cross country skiing experience translated very easily into downhill skiing. I was having the time of my life!
Asherel was still in her snow-boarding lesson, so I shouted to her where we were going (with not a little bit of pride, either....) and we headed to the chair lift.

There was one young girl with no parent with her, and I DO mean to brag, but the ski instructor grouped her with me to go on the chair lift because I was his star pupil. We managed to get on the chair lift fine, as the operator gave us some hurried instruction, and I prepared to try not to freak out.
"Isn't this fun!?" I said, between clenched teeth to the little girl beside me.
"Yes," she whispered through her braces, "But I am afraid of heights."
Lovely. Someone who was possibly more frightened than I was. Time to be an adult.
"It's best to look straight ahead," I said, as though I had ridden these contraptions a million times, "Look at how beautiful those pine trees are? Don't you just love skiing? Do you live near here? Where are your parents?" etc., etc,. keeping up a steady stream of chatter so the little girl would not notice that the chair lifts were seemingly miraculously suspended on the wire on a 2 inch fulcrum and we were fifty feet or so dangling in the air.

I knew instinctively it was not best to discuss the stretcher we had seen ski patrol race by with, with a man strapped down and covered with tubes and an oxygen mask.
"OOoh," our instructer had noted, "That's more than a broken leg....."
(He should have listened to my sister who had advised "What's the worst that could happen? A broken leg?"....apparently there was worse.....)

I saw the yellow sign warning us to lift the safety bar and prepare to dismount. I instructed the little girl on what to do next, but she kept her skis on the bar.
"Move your skis under it," I said with less fear than I felt. It was quickly approaching the point we were to ski off the lift. Her skis though remained on the bar as it lifted and she slid up a little. I pulled her legs down and it was time to ski off the seat. She of course fell, lost her pole, and crashed into me. I grabbed her pole, and tried to pull her out of the way of the chair. The attendant rushed over and slid us both down the hill a little where we lay in a heap.... but safe.
"I am so sorry!" said the little girl.
"Oh don't worry, I would've fallen anyway," I assured her.

I loved loved loved skiing down that mountain. It was a thrill like few I have experienced. Now I know why people sell their children to buy a lift ticket!
Asherel had had enough by 2:30.
"Can we go now?" she asked, "I am exhausted!"
Snowboarding is much harder and more strenuous than skiing, especially when you are learning.
"Do we have to?" I whined, "Can't you just go find another family to live with? I think I will just get a job here and be a snow bunny."
She glared at me, and I knew my fun was over.

So in the end, I had been full of fear for naught. I had had the time of my life, met wonderful people, and even helped still the fear of a sweet little girl. You just never know how you might be used of God. "Embrace life", God was shouting to me, "Find the snowy mountain among the dark brown ones and ski down it rapturously!"

Psalm 21  

 ¹ The king rejoices in your strength, LORD.
   How great is his joy in the victories you give!
 ² You have granted him his heart’s desire
   and have not withheld the request of his lips.
³ You came to greet him with rich blessings
   and placed a crown of pure gold on his head.
⁴ He asked you for life, and you gave it to him—
   length of days, for ever and ever.
⁵ Through the victories you gave, his glory is great;
   you have bestowed on him splendor and majesty.
⁶ Surely you have granted him unending blessings
   and made him glad with the joy of your presence.
⁷ For the king trusts in the LORD;
   through the unfailing love of the Most High
   he will not be shaken.

Here or There

It is way too early.... but I don't know how far away the mountain is. So I have to plan on 3 hours though it is probably only a 2 hour drive. I know that it is supposed to be warm and sunny here. It is predicted to be cold and blustery there. Why exactly am I going there? It seems this sort of thing happens a lot in my life. All is perfectly peaceful, calm, easy here.... but I am always ending up there.

I will be fine once I am there, on top of the snowy mountain listening to some barely past babyfood aged young man telling me how to remain alive while balancing on thin wooden planks and careening full throttle into the force of gravity. As soon as we get to the mountain, I will be glad I went. I am sure of it......

Meanwhile, I am remembering Paul's admonition to be content in any and all circumstances. He was such a master at finding joy whether he was here or there. This is a skill I sorely need to develop.... quickly.

Philippians 4:11-13

¹¹ I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. ¹² I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. ¹³ I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Mountains of Fear

I stared glumly at the live video stream from the top of the mountain we would be on in two days- blinding, white out blizzard. A few huddled masses skied by but they were indiscernible blobs in the horizontally blowing snow.
"My this does look fun, " I murmured.

My first ploy to avoid the snowboard trip was to insist Asherel have her new helicopter design finished and competition worthy by sundown Sunday. She appears to be on target to meet that goal. Secondly, she had to have her art submission for the Scholastic Art Contest finished as well, since once school starts back Monday, we will not have much extra time and the deadline is looming. Since our snowboard trip is a school day, Tuesday, she had to complete those extras over vacation.  But it looks like even the very detailed and lovely art submission will be done.

So I will again be hauling my brittle bones off to a steep and icy mountain to hurtle myself downward on small pieces of wood..... and pay for the privilege! It could be worse. Now that I have a season of snowboarding under my belt, and Asherel has her own snowboard equipment, she has agreed that I can ski rather than snowboard. Since I already cross country ski and often tackle downhills on those skis, I feel fairly confident that I will get the hang of downhill skiing. Asherel is a quirky kid with unusual interests, and doesn't go for the typical sports that most kids gravitate to- things that moms just stand on the sideline and cheer, like soccer, or basketball. Her sports involve animals- horseback riding, dog agility, loose parakeet chasing. And now snowboarding, which she doesn't want to do alone. Since I know the day will come when I will beg her to spend time with me, it is just wise to spend time with her when she requests it now. Besides, we would much rather encourage healthy outdoor activity  rather than undue focus on makeup application or illicit drug experimentation. Therefore, I am willing to foster this new interest of hers and to foster it, I must brave the consequences to myself. What are a few broken bones in exchange for a healthy, clean cut teenager?

But that video stream of the mountain did not engender cheery thoughts......

I face this self defeating fear whenever I meet some new situation. How I would love to march courageously and joyfully into every new adventure without a moment's hesitation! I try not to let the fear defeat me and paralyze me, but I would be a liar to say it is not a constant battle. I have had some very useless advice regarding this fear, the most annoying being, "Just don't feel it."  This is stated in varying "helpful" ways such as, "Don't be silly", "Stop being negative", or my favorite, "That's just stupid."
And it often is stupid, but telling someone who fears just not to fear never works.  The one thing that does work is to change the focus, but it requires continual prayer and vigilance on my part. Reading scripture and visualizing God beside me, His arm supporting me as I venture into the scary world of the unknown really does manage to calm me to the degree that I can move however tremulously forward.  And I have learned that when my foot hits the mountain, the fear subsides as the unknown becomes known and most of the time, I have adventures and delight that mark the fondest moments of my life.

Ultimately, fear results from loss of understanding, or loss of control, or loss of trust...and sometimes all three. I know this New Year will not likely free me from all fear, but I do pray I am freed from some. And perhaps these little forays into places that I do not easily venture is building courage step by step. In a sense, I am not skiing down a mountain, I am climbing a mountain of a different sort. I pray for all my readers that whatever mountains you are braving in your life, don't give up til you reach the summit. I suspect God is sitting at the top, waiting for you.

Exodus 3:11-13

 ¹¹ But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
 ¹² And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”

Psalm 46

 ¹ God is our refuge and strength,
   an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
   and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
   and the mountains quake with their surging.

Frozen Manna

I can barely walk today. That is because yesterday we got that promised blizzard, the winter storm to beat all winter storms, the harbinger of the dreaded melting of the glaciers and annihilation of all polar bears. We got a full one and one quarter inches of fresh powder. Charlotte ground to a standstill. Every event was canceled including church. For the Bible Belt to cancel church, you know the storm is of epic proportions. I arose in the morning and pulled aside the blinds- SNOW!!! Real honest to goodness frozen manna from heaven waiting for me to go frolic and taste the goodness and beauty of God's icing on the streets.
I quickly downed breakfast, and gathered the cross country ski equipment, that is thirty years old and only gets called into service once a year here in Charlotte. In places that are used to snow, like NY where I hail from, the twenty inches that drop every hour are immediately dispatched, but here in Charlotte, the one snow plow that serves the entire southeast was busy in Concord which got a death defying 5 inches, so we were sure to have snow covered streets til at least April or the first thaw....tomorrow. So I opened the door, slapped on my skis, and the world was my groomed trail! I skied joyously down the white street. The downhills became Olympic mountains, the speed bumps my moguls. I passed many children who stopped building snowmen to point at me, and say, "Look Mama! An alien!"
Many adults called out, "You're not from around here, are you?"
It was clear that no one in Charlotte had ever seen a cross country skier.
I headed to the open wilderness, the sidewalks along the busy thoroughfare. Few cars were out as one inch of snow is not to be trifled with, unless it is for an emergency situation like a Starbucks Latte. Now while much of my writing is intended to be humorous and somewhat exaggerated, I am telling the truth when I say that this was the singular best day of ski conditions I had ever encountered. God had sent a cystal layer of pellets as a base, and then soft powder, but just one inch. So my skis could not ever hit the damaging pavement, but slid across the icy pellets and were cushioned by the soft powder. It was the finest groomed ski trail and I raced along the sidewalks. I made for the golf course, the one where only the people who have cheated on their taxes can possibly afford. Normally, the guard at the iron gate there takes one look at me and slams the door shut as it is clear people of my station in life are not allowed. But the guard house was unmanned, as no one but the snow bunnies were out that morn, so I whisked onto the forbidden grounds. I skied last winter in the Washington mountains, and I can tell you, that golf course was just as gorgeous with the added benefit of no pumas stalking me. I sailed up and down huge hills and deftly negotiated sand traps with ease. The whole country was blanketed in untrammeled white, and I was alone, lost in the wilderness of an elite golf course.

I knew I had skied too far and would pay dearly for it by the next morning, but it didn't matter. If I must be crippled by excess, let it be an excess of joy. I skied 18 holes, and sadly turned homeward.

And today, I can barely walk. Did you know that there are muscles in your ear lobes? There must be, because even there, I ache. But it is a pain from feasting on the pure goodness of God's world, a satiating moment of beauty and pure whiteness in the often grey stumbles of life.

Psalm 51:7
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.