I enjoyed a couple of days on the ski hill this week for the first time in eight years. I hadn’t skied since my first child was born and even then it had been minimal.
I started out feeling rather apprehensive about everything from the tow rope to the, er, terrifying height of the bunny hill. It only took a few minutes to remember what I’d learned all those years ago. My sweet husband waited behind me at the peak of every hill making me feel a little safer just by his presence and gave me many a head start. Once I’d descended to a plateau he would ski down behind me – taking five seconds to every minute of mine.
See that sign? I asked myself that same question…
As I was leisurely (and sometimes not so calmly) cutting back and forth across the hills I reflected on how I have changed in those eight years. Motherhood has changed me in ways I never imagined. This is reflected in so many aspects of my life but on the ski hill I discovered I am less fearful.
A deeper faith and a greater trust has moulded me from a once very fearful person in shyness, timidity and insecurity to a person who knows a little better who she is and who she was made to be (and I say a little because I still have a long way to go, fighting those previous tendencies much of the way).
Somehow my time on skis brought to light this change which I am thankful for (and which affects my daily life) but which I have taken little time to acknowledge in gratitude. I wouldn’t go back for anything.
Having said all that, despite the fact that I’m a less fearful person, I still don’t get a thrill racing downhill or pushing my limits. I am not a relaxed skier and even with greater experience on skis I don’t think that would change. I get my kicks more with crafty endeavours and personal encounters than speed and exhilaration. I’m no adrenaline junkie – the fight-or-flight response – I’d use that to run.
So I enjoyed my quiet time on the hill, slowly carving wide S’s across the snow thinking of how effortless many of my fellow skiers made it all look while I held a firm grip on my poles like they were some sort of safety rope. And I thought how thankful I am to know my speed and enjoy its pace while happily (and rather tremulously) watching my two oldest children fly down those hills fearlessly at their own speed.
