“What?” I demanded, to which he broke out in a laugh.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything,” he shrugged.
“So, I like to find the best table. I’m living intentionally. It all matters, you know,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Where you sit matters?” he asked.
“Well, sure it does! Our time is limited. For all I know, this could be my last day on earth, and I want it to be right. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I don’t want to waste it on a wobbly table that needs a few coasters squished under that third leg or lighting that makes me look like a troll living under a bridge.” His eyes widened. “I mean that in a non-conceited way. Life is a gift. I want to enjoy it the best I can, is all.” I took a bite of the indulgent cupcake with its double-tiered frosting. Ford laughed. “What?”
“You have a little frosting on your nose.” He motioned to his own.
“I know. Maybe I’m saving that for later,” I said, playing it cool before I wiped it off with a napkin from the holder on the table.
“You’re different.” His words dropped on the table like an anvil.
“How so?” I asked, suddenly feeling very insecure in my own skin.
“I can’t quite put my finger on that,” Ford trailed off.
“Is it abadthing?” My words were like a whisper.
“No. Definitely not in a bad way.” Hmm. I’d been told I was different before by men, all of whom didn’t want another date with me. Honestly, this pattern was tiring. Was something seriously wrong with me? What if I didn’t WANT to be different?
“Okay,” I said back, losing my appetite for my cupcake. I only ate half of it when I set it back down on its plate.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been told I don’t communicate very well,” he admitted. I nodded.
“That’s apparent,” I smiled, trying to smooth things over. “And I’ve been told I’m overbearing. Too much.Annoying,” I said sheepishly. Yet, saying it out loud, I felt emotion bubbling up inside of me. I had a habit of oversharing, but this made me feel small as the slideshow of hurtful comments in memory took over my brain.Lord, I know these feelings are not coming from You. Please protect my mind from the one who is sending them.
“I’m sorry. People can be so mean. I’ve experienced it, too.” His words struck a chord in my heart. Was this quiet,brooding cowboy opening up to me? I wanted to do anything I could to keep it going.
“Really? Tell me about that.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t it. Was I writing a book? Interviewing him for a late-night talk show? Ford shrugged.
“When my ex and I broke up, half of my friends stopped communicating with me. People I’d known for years. They kind of took her ‘side’ so to speak, before they even knew that she left me for another man.” I nodded, knowing how hurtful that must have been. “And growing up, I was treated as though I was a burden. It’s not something that you can just get over that easily.” I was blown away by the revelation from Ford.
“Exactly! It’s more challenging to forgive people who make you feel small. Boy, do I understand that. But it’s also the most freeing form of forgiveness that there is. To forgive and forget. To leave those hurts in the rear-view mirror.” We sat in silence for a few minutes as Ford looked reflective, taking sips of his tea and eventually downing the rest of it. I had gulped mine down minutes ago.
“Want to get back to the slopes?”
“Sure,” I said, mildly disappointed that our conversation was ending, but hoping we could pick things back up later. Ittook all of my strength to wobble over to the door in my stiff ski boots. You never realize how much you use your ankles to walk normally until they are frozen in place by a thick, unbendable plastic. But once said plastic is clipped into metal sticks traversing on ice, you are suddenly thankful for the lack of bendability.
We spent the rest of the afternoon shredding through the heavy, “first class” powder. Ford said it was the best snow in the world because it was a heavy, dry snow. All of that went over my head as I wasn’t a meteorologist, but having grown up in Denver and skiing all around the states, I agreed that these were some supreme conditions.
Each time we got on a chair lift or inside a gondola, Ford would stiffen up. Worried that someone would be waiting in the wings at the top or would recognize him from one of the many passing chairs going by. I didn’t think these fears were irrational, and he certainly didn’t voice them, but rather I felt in tune with him. I picked up on things more than the average person, which was another reason why most men found me annoying to be around.
Normally, when I thought of such things—thoughts planted by the devil, perhaps—I would fall into a spiral ofdwelling. How I was not good enough. How I had failed. How I needed to work on myself or change completely. But just then, I felt as though the mouth of the Lord was speaking into my mind:Those you’ve met were not good enough for you.I didn’t deserve that treatment from them. I was barking up the wrong tree for men to begin with because they didn’t deserveme. What a freedom it was to find peace in the Lord!
As we sat in silence on the chairlift, and God was working out my biggest hangups in life in my heart, my attention turned back to Ford. At first, I thought he was just a brooding, grumpy cowboy living in a fancy ski town. Spending time with him the last few days, I had found his demeanor starting to soften. He certainly had much more going on than met the eye. What was that phrase?A still water that runs deep.Just because he wasn’t speaking so much that he was constantly blaring his words didn’t mean he was not thinking. Orfeeling. There was more to Ford than met the eye—but what did meet the eye was unbelievably handsome. He was drop-dead gorgeous. The winter games were just a day away, and then my trip was coming to an end. Power could have been restored to my chalet at any moment, and roads would have reopened. Would I have beenable to peel back the proverbial onion of Ford before I left Sage Mountain?
Chapter 8: Ford
Short Snowman, Long Story
The Lord sent Presley to me, because He’d been trying to reach me in other ways, and I wasn’t getting the messages. That was the only explanation for how someone could speak the language of my heart so naturally.
When Presley brought up forgiveness today, it was all I could do to stay seated, as I nearly toppled over when another weight was lifted from me. One that I had been carrying for so long, the entirety of my life. I wanted to forgive those who had hurt me.Oh, Lord, now I see that even the hurt was a gift, as every hardship is, because through our pain we find You.
I had really enjoyed my day with Presley. She was outgoing in almost a strange way. I didn’t mean that negatively; it was just foreign in today’s day and age that someone be so open and honest without fear. Presley had no hidden agenda or tricks up her sleeve.
