The Bunny Hills of Life

I took my son skiing for the first time.  On vacation in snow covered Minnesota, we embraced the winter activities.  Bring it on.  Skiing is not my favorite sport; but, in the name of motherhood, I donned the layers of clothing, hat, scarves and mittens and tromped out to the slopes with a very excited 6 year old in tow.  Painstakingly, we grappled with poles and skis and pushed ourselves over to the bunny hill.  "Squat, push, and slide," was my son's first lesson in this detrimental sport.  It took a while for us to get over to the conveyor belt that would take us to the top of the first hill.  I would push him from behind.  He would slide forward and I would slide backwards.  This is going to be a long day, I thought to myself, as his progress was completely dependent on my doubled effort.  Squat, push, slide.  "Don't cross your skis and use your poles" I shouted from behind him.  It took a few tries, but we finally got on the motorized belt.  Still behind him, I directed him to "Bend your knees and lean forward."  Our adventure had started as we slowly creeped up the hill with our poles tucked under our arms.

After one time down the hill, my son quickly mastered this small hill and wanted to move onto bigger hills.  These required ski lifts - a new obstacle to overcome - getting on the moving ski chair. 

My main obstacle was fear for my apparently fearless son.  Again, it took a few tries, but we finally got on.  As the ski lift carried us above the trees, I gripped his arm in a state of suppressed terror while he smiled from ear to ear, swung his legs, and pointed to the next hills he wanted to try.  "Try to be still on the lift," I pleaded as I gripped his arm harder.  We glided off the lift with surprisingly little difficulty and eased down the hill.   

Whoa...he was getting good at this.  "I'm right behind you," I would encourage... and off he would go, like a whiz, zigzagging down the hill.  I chased after him, watching in amazement. 

I realized that my son approaches skiing like we should all approach life.  Try the bunny hill first, but don't be afraid to go to new heights.  While I was perfectly happy to stay on the conveyor belt for the duration, my son was not satisfied.  He enjoyed the new challenges.  He saw others doing it and knew that he could too.  He shouted to the snowboarders below us while we were on the lift, "It's okay.  Get up and try again!"  His first time skiing and he was already chearleading those around him. 

His perspective on skiing was never negative.  He assumed that he was going to get better with each run and did!  He didn't want to take a break.  He didn't get cold.  He was concentrating on the goal and the exhileration of accomplishing new things. 

In new challenges, we may need someone behind us, shouting instructions to "squat, push, or glide," but we should be equally excited about the experiences that await us.  Sometimes, we forget to enjoy the view, look at the trees and realize that this world is really beautiful.   

My son didn't let any of the falls or circumstances, like the freezing rain that started to fall, deter him from his intense desire to succeed.  In fact, failure to him was not an option. 

Too many times, we concentrate on the ways we can fail besides looking ahead at the hills there are left to conquer.  Like the conveyor belt and the ski lift, it may take a few tries, but we will get on, and they will bring us to greater heights if we let them. 

In this winter wonderland, my son was king of the bunny hill.

I continued to be behind him, but after a while, that was just because I wanted to watch how good he was getting, not because he needed me. 

At the end of the day, he saw a little girl skiing down a black diamond hill and said, "Look, she can do that hill!  I can do it!"  Exhausted, I responded, "I have no doubt that you can, but we're going to wait till next year."