The Hole I Laughed In

Looking around me I was completely alone surrounded by beautiful and soaring trees, fallen logs and the quiet snow. My favorite part of skiing is the tree trails, but this one had led me astray. Literally hitting a dead-end via a giant tree, I had lost a ski and was knee deep in powder. As I started laughing to myself breaking the snowy silence, I realized at some point I had learned this. Not skiing, but laughing at myself. Don’t assume that my laughing meant the difficulty of carrying my gear through two feet of snow, navigating over logs and brush, and reattaching my skis was easy. This process was physically demanding, incredibly frustrating and defeating - especially when all alone. But I was laughing.

Some people play sports. Some people go spelunking. Others go rock climbing, build a house, or write a dissertation. All these things have something in common, and it is this thing that teaches us humans how to live life - really live.

It is why I took my kids skiing. All these things have great reward, but not without great process and great failure. For me, skiing not only taught me about having gumption and courage, but how to have joy in the midst of great struggle. It’s the ability to laugh when I am face down in the snow with nothing but a long hike in ski boots up a mountain to gather my skis, poles and sunglasses. Sure, when I make it through the maze of trees and brush successfully and even stick the jump at the end of the trail - that feels like a great reward. But the true success is the ability to look around me in my failure, after I climb out out of the powdery hole, reattach my skis and say, “I’m here, I tried, I failed, but I kept going!”

I took my kids skiing because the mountain will not bend for them. The trees do not lay down and make the path easy. This is not to say I didn’t try to prepare them. Ski school, proper winter apparel, snacks and at times physical assistance were all required. But, they face the same mountain I do. The hills and trees of those slopes contain an endless amount of fun and exhilaration. Covered in the same snow contains frustration, anxiety, and even tragedy. This is life. For every win there is a loss. For every marriage a divorce. For every life a death. It is the great mystery and beauty of this world. It is His joy that makes the difference.

To find His strength when all that’s left is bruised and broken. To keep going when we’re stuck in a hole. To find our laugh when all we want to do is cry. This is what I wanted to teach my kids. The mountain is there, in all it’s beauty and all it’s tragedy. When there’s nothing but the stillness of failure, He is there, cheering us on, giving us what we need.