She stood up, taking my hand in hers for a moment and then went to join Mickey and the teens. I sat there for a minute longer, taking in the unexpected words of encouragement. Saying a silent prayer, I felt the words she said and told the Lord I would love nothing more than for them to become my reality.
Once everyone got settled in, it was time for our first ski lesson of the week. Just as Mickey said, we divided the groups into beginner, moderate, and advanced skiers. Surprisingly, most of the kids were in the beginner category. Though they were half my age, there was a redeeming quality about that for my own mental health.
Once everyone was dressed in ski gear, helmets, boots, and poles, our instructors had our skis waiting for usoutside the door. Before we went out, Mickey pulled out a list and named off who would ski with each instructor. My group was last, so I took the chance to apply sunscreen on my face before departing.
My group was made up of myself and seven teens. We got paired with Tara, a lovely twenty-something blonde with hot pink ski pants. The uniform jacket was a long parka in a brilliant red, similar to my jacket but longer, and it had a giant Sage Mountain logo on the back. She looked like a walking Valentine. It worked for her. She was friendly, quickly introducing herself to me with a handshake before greeting the teens.
“Alright, gang. This is going to be fun! First, we are going to start with an assessment to see ability. Raise your hand if you’ve skied before.”
Most of the group did, except for two.
“Great. Alright, you two, you stay with me. Everyone else, if you’re comfortable with it, I’d like you to go up the magic carpet and ski down, one by one, so I can see what you need to work on.”
The adrenaline shot through my veins as I somehow got roped into going first. “I can’t, I’m shy,” I joked with oneteen, Gracie, who stood her ground and insisted I go first. “Okay, I’ll go.”
As I stepped onto the magic carpet, memories of the times I had been there flooded my mind. Over the years, I’d made several attempts to take up skiing but never took it seriously and gave up when I didn’t immediately become a pro. Good skiers made it look so easy, but in reality, it was a sport that required practice and skill. And for the first time in my life, I was taking lessons from an instructor. As I reached the top of the bunny hill, I looked down to Tara who was smiling and waiting for me to come down, so I tried my best to do that smoothly.
The wind picked up, swirling a fresh powder of snow around me and simulating the feeling of going faster than I was. I knew from my dad that the goal was to keep my skis parallel to each other, but I tried that too quickly and fell face down in the snow.
“It’s okay, Claire. Keep going!” Tara called out.
Keep going? I was covered in snow. My mission failed. I was remembering why I hated skiing so much while I pushed my upper body up. As I sat in the snow and unclippedmy skis with a pole so I could walk out of that situation, someone else came up beside me.
“Take my hand.”
A black glove appeared in front of me, and I did. After he helped me up, I looked at his face, but between his black helmet, metallic goggles, and neck gaiter, I could not see who the man was or what he looked like. He set my skis down in front of him to clip back into.
“There, you’re all set.”
That was it, and he skied off before I could thank him. Although my ego was bruised, I felt fine otherwise, so I shrugged it off and, with Tara’s encouragement, I clipped back into the skis and tried my best to follow through. When I made it back to her, she gave me a pat on the back.
“Great job, Claire. Falling is inevitable, but getting back up and trying again is where the commitment lies within us. You got this, Claire.”
I did not feel the same sentiment… In fact, I felt the furthest from it.
When the last teen returned from their assessment, Tara told us we all had varying abilities, and she asked ifeveryone wanted to start from scratch. We were in overwhelming agreement with that idea.
“Fantastic. Now, let’s begin by starting our lesson in ski positions. Everybody watch me and do as I do, okay?”
She put her skis out parallel in front of her, and we all followed suit. Thankfully, I was already standing that way, if not just a little more pigeon-toed.
“This is called ‘French Fries.’ This is how we ski when we want to glide. Got it? Now for the next.”
She put her ski tips closer together, making a triangle.
“This is called ‘Pizza.’ This is what we do when we want to turn, to slow down, or to even stop before we learn how to properly do that. Claire, be careful with this as it’s brutal on the knees past age twenty-five.”
She giggled, and I thanked her for the warning.
“Now, let’s put these two positions into play. Everyone, let’s hop on the magic carpet to take us to the top of the bunny hill!”
Despite my second time on it in fifteen minutes, and it only moving at three mph, I wasn’t expecting the magic carpet to almost trip me when I stepped on. My body wasworking so hard to glide over like I had any sense on skis at all, but the carpet was moving slower than I was by the time I made it, causing me to lean forward and nearly take out all of my teens like a row of dominoes. Thankfully, my ski poles caught me.
The way down the hill that time was different as the focus wasn’t on me, but rather relaxed as I was casually trying the different stances. It brought back many memories of the last time I tried to ski, which was well over a decade ago. My dad, Mac, had been invited to Palisades Tahoe for a “Legends of the West” race, and he took me along. We had four days to roam around, and my mother and I decided we would go sledding. But when she twisted her ankle on ice the night before, I decided to rent some equipment for the day. I quickly felt frustrated, clumsy, and far too cold. It was a miserable time trying to make my body move like an expert, though I was starting from square one. I thought I gave it up for good after that.
I was seeing a pattern. Every time in my life that I’d faced a challenge, I’d given up. How would things be different if, instead of giving up, I’d faced the difficulties head on? Sighing, I realized I was once again having a pity party. No onehad made me come. No one had forced me to take that lesson, and in fact, I had made that choice myself. It was something I’d always aspired to do, and yet, I’d never followed through on. When would I ever learn to take responsibility for my choices? I said a silent prayer.
Lord, please free me from my own mind. I accept the responsibility and consequences of my actions. Let me be patient as You are with me. I thank You for the blessing and answer to my prayers by bringing me here. Lord, let me live without fear and enjoy this experience as much as possible. I want Your will for my life, not my own. In your name, Amen.
