Follow me!

In January, my husband Brad and I headed for one of the most beautiful and relaxing spots I know -- Alta, Utah. While others wish for beaches in the dead of winter, I crave deep powder and the opportunity to ski, eat, sleep, and repeat -- little else. Alta is not a "foo foo" ski resort area. Serious skiers (no snowboarders allowed) who want great snow without all the trappings of spas and shops and high-end restaurants go to Alta. We ski all day and sit in the lounge pretty much each night and eat pizza, feeding the crust to one or more of the "lodge dogs" who befriend us -- as long as we have food. I love the place!

Anyway, for this long weekend get-away, we packed up our brand new skis and boots and headed west. We had agreed that this time we would take a ski lesson the first day. Both of us are run-of-the-mill blue run (intermediate) skiers, but went with the desire to perfect our skills in order to ski steeper parts of the amazing Wasatch mountains.

Brad and I ended up with different instructors. Bob was my teacher. He is 75-years-old and has been a ski instructor nearly 50 years at Alta. Bob is tall and fit with a big yellowing-toothed smile. He met his troop of five adult students with exuberance. Bob was psyched for teaching us new skills.

We took the chairlift to a mid-mountain point and Bob pulled us together. He spoke of the freeing nature of skiing and how fun it can/should be. He addressed our issues and fears. He spoke words of specific instruction, and then he took off down the slope shouting, "Follow me!" We did. We had to, because Bob was becoming smaller and smaller as he floated away from the group.

We repeated this pattern over and over -- to the bottom and back up many times. One of the most valuable things Bob taught me was how to balance my skis perpendicular to the slope and allow myself to slide sideways while under control. The value of this move is that when a skier finds herself in a tight spot where it seems too steep or narrow to turn safely -- she can slide slowly by flexing the skis until reaching terrain that's within her comfort zone. Bob preached "practice and patience" as I got the hang of the technique.

Unfortunately, about half-way through the lesson, my new boots were causing me great pain. My left calf muscle was cramping so bad, that while skiing I'd often have to lift that leg and ski only on the right in order to find relief. That was a trick Bob hadn't taught!

So the last time up the mountain when Bob said, "You are all ready! I'm taking all of you to the top (where the "big boys" ski the steeps)," I nearly cried. My leg hurt so badly I knew that going to the top was not an option for me. I was certain I couldn't get down safely given the boot issue.

Bob understood -- but wanted me to have the "summit" experience so badly he offered to skip his lunch break and take me back up after I'd taken the boot off and stretched a while. It was a gracious offer, but I didn't accept it. Instead, I asked Bob if he was available for private lessons the next day. That way he could take both Brad and me to the top and offer instruction and encouragement. He said he'd love to, but "tomorrow" was Sunday, and on Sundays (for his entire adult life) he never teaches because he takes his wife to church and spends the day honoring God and with her.

"Awesome!" I said. "I completely understand and respect that."

He handed me his business card and said, "If you feel better by lunchtime, call me and we'll head up. You're ready."

With that, Bob and my four classmates boarded another lift for the summit. I skied down in pain and found a coffee shop.

I had learned alot, but felt defeated and literally hobbled by pain. I didn't/couldn't ski the rest of the day. A technician tried to adjust my boot -- but with little improvement. I was truly depressed.

The next day dawned with a beautiful sunrise. Brad and I had agreed to take it slow and test out our new skills. He had an injury to his shin from rubbing against the boot that was limiting his ability as well.

I prayed and sang praise songs to myself as we made our way to the lift. We went up to the half-way point and discussed taking the next lift to the summit. But standing there and watching the skiers come down from the top, I became truly scared. It was steep! The runs were narrow! I was still hurting! Yikes!

We skied down from where we stood and discussed options. "Let's do one more run from here and see how we feel," I suggested.

So up we went back up to the familiar halfway point.

"We have to just go," I told Brad while heading for the lift to the summit. He followed, and soon we were on the chairlift. No turning back.

At the top, we stood for several minutes just taking in the beauty. We could see in all directions from truly the top of the world -- at least in that area. But our awe turned to fear again as we realized that the trails marked "easier way" were still significantly steeper and narrower than any terrain we'd ever skied.

I looked at Brad and said, "We have to just get started. Pick a point to stop at and regroup. We'll take it in sections."

Bob's words were very present in my head, but I did wish he'd been there to physically guide me. So I went through his mantra out loud: "Relax - feel the skis - let 'em run - control your turn with patience -- balance with your upper body." Soon we were down a ways and still upright! At that point, however, we had to take a sharp turn down a narrow trail to avoid the steepest of all terrain.

"I can't do this," I thought (and probably said). But having no real option other than rolling down the mountain like Bullwinkle as a snowball, I started the controlled slide Bob had taught. "Patience -- the skis will do what you want -- let 'em slide -- don't panic -- wait to turn at a good spot."

It worked! I negotiated the tight turn and grew more confident as we made our way down section by section.

We did it without falling or giving up! We overcame the fear and embraced the experience. Bob would have been so proud.

Back at the lodge that afternoon with boot issues still limiting us, I began to think about all that had transpired. Bob's teaching style became suddenly familiar.

He engaged me with his passion. He instructed me with wisdom and experience. He asked me to imitate him through practice (Follow me!). He encouraged me. He extended himself to serve me; yet he had boundaries on what he needed to prioritize. His words were with me even when he wasn't.

Bob was modeling Jesus.

I was doing my part, too. I was teachable, accountable, and faithful -- despite the fear.

God is so good to us in so many ways. At Alta, he was good to me by showing himself through Bob. When Jesus said to Peter and Andrew (Matt 4): “Come, follow me, and I will send you out to fish for people” they dropped their nets and followed him.

He was calling them to a mission -- to hook people for God's glory. My mission of skiing from the top of Alta certainly isn't profound as an achievement, but my witnessing and participating in bringing glory to God by modeling his ways IS profound -- and edifying -- and encouraging -- and wonderful!

Thank you, Bob!

A Fruitful Fast

I don't know how you feel about fasting. Let me simply say that I respect those who do fast and pray to find spiritual breakthrough. Don't ask me to join you, however, because I get that "If I hold my breath long enough, mom will give me the cookie" feeling when asked to join someone else's fast.




But I started a 30-day fast February 28, and the results are already proving powerful.

I'm fasting from my right to be right.

Of late (as even my blog posts reveal), I've felt attacked, maligned, and marginalized in a number of venues. But as I read a book on Joseph of the Old Testament, I became acutely aware that my persecutions are mild compared to his or, perhaps, most people's. I have had a really difficult time not taking "things" personally and reacting in a way that's either defensive or labels my attacker as clearly unaware or even stupid. I've justified my judgments by claiming I was right.

Interestingly, I MAY be right in many cases. But as the book pointed out: "Greatness is rarely determined by a person's achievements, but always by his (her) attitude."

I want to be one remembered as having a great attitude -- a Christ-like attitude -- not as one who was "right." So, the fast began. And immediately -- as though I'd given up potato chips -- I was given opportunity to indulge on a feast. I have, through God's guidance and power, resisted those opportunities. And you know what? When I wanted to defend myself but remained silent, someone else stepped up to speak on my behalf. When I've wanted to make a point of being "right" -- I've let my need go and the feeling passed quickly.

This laying down my rights thing is an on-going story/need in my life, but I'm seeing -- and liking -- the fruit this time. God is my defender. He is with me and for me. I don't have to fight; just obey. Keep reminding me, Lord!