Ski Bunny

She did it! I didn't doubt for a minute that she could do it. Our little dare-devil, I'll-try-anything girl learned how to snow ski this year. It was priceless. The first trip down the bunny hill "bonsai!" style. Reminded me of when I taught my husband how to ski. I was thrilled that it was the only sport in the world that I could do and he hadn't tried. Other than the ski lift (see below) he was an accomplished skier within the 2nd trip down the mountain. After that, he would kiss me and meet me at the bottom. I prefer enjoying the scenery; he likes to try to make imaginary time-trials. His first trip down the blue slopes was quite an adventure. He took off straight, none of this side-to-side mess for him! The trail eventually took a turn as it met with another trail. As my friends and I approached the merge area, there was no sign of him. Only a lonely hat lying in the snow on the far side of the trail. We then noticed a pair of ski marks in the snow that disappeared over the edge, and realized the hat belonged to my all-or-nothing guy. As we peered over the edge we saw him. He sheepishly called that he was alright. Nothing broken, nothing hurt (except for his pride, maybe).
Funny how my daughter, the one that usually takes after me, chose to be like her father on her first trip down the mountain. I wouldn't change a thing about that day, though. Before long, she was ready to face the big hill. My dear 8 year old spent the rest of the day on the blue slopes. No need for those easy green ones!
I had two "BEST PARTS" of the day. The first being the time we shared riding the lift together, snuggling, sharing stories, watching others fall, laughing. I told her the story of her daddy and his accomplishments on the ski lift. Because my husband is 6'4, he has extremely long skis. As we took off for the umpteenth time up the lift, my husband's ski happened to be turned out a little more than before. His ski was so long that it caught on the support beam that holds the lift cables. Since we were too cool at the time to actually put the safety bar down, he fell forward. Completely out of the chair, about 20 feet. Fortunately he hit lots of soft, powdery snow, missing the boulders by about 3 feet. Scared me to death! Once again, nothing broken, nothing hurt, (except for his pride, definitely) As he stood up, everyone waiting in the lift line gave him a standing ovation. The caring "dudes" that ran the lift made him go to the back of the line. Gnarly.
The other BEST PART of our ski trip was savoring this right of passage. My dear dad was there. The most patient man in the world, who taught me to ski, now got to be a part of teaching his granddaughter to ski. Yep, he was just as patient as I remembered. There is just something about watching your child try something new and getting it. Getting it better than you ever imagined. My dad and I connected on a new level that day. We both had that twinkle in our eye as we tried to keep up with our little ski bunny. By the end of the day she was counting how many trips she made it down the slope without falling.

My heart soared and I swelled with pride over her. She trusted me enough to try something that I knew she would like. She trusted me and then she tasted SUCCESS. My heart was overflowing in that moment. Not over something I had done. Purely over the moment.
I think my Heavenly Father does the same thing. He asks me to trust him. Sometimes it seems scary and I kinda don't want to. But I know He knows best. I know that He can see the big picture, the whole mountain. On the days that I choose to trust Him, my heart overflows. I am His child. He created me. He loves me more than I could ever dream. Today I want to take the plunge and see all that He has prepared for me.