From the first time I set my boots in skis and soared down the mtn in NC, I loved skiing. The absolute freedom of moving unencumbered over the soft "cloud" of glistening snow was exhilarating. Even falling (which I did, often,) failed to diminish the breathtaking liberty I felt. It served only as an encouragement to manage my movements on skis with greater care and precision.
I read once that Lito Tejade-Flores, an accomplished Italian ski instructor, said that the best moment in skiing is when the skier learns to "laugh and dance with the mountain." The visual of that statement resonates within me and begins to express the deep contentment of gliding down any ski slope.
Cancer is a word that brings a variety of responses......dancing and laughter might not be two that immediately come to mind. In the same way that peering down a particularly steep slope with an abundance of new snow might bring a reaction of fear and apprehension, the specter of chemotherapy and unknown territory can be an alarming mountain as well. Learning to navigate a slope of unknowns is a process of trusting......your past experiences, knowledge, abilities. You fix your eyes halfway down the slope and keep them there, having faith that your skis underneath you will absorb the bumps and drops and bring you down the mountain.
Yesterday I embarked on a "new trail:" I began the infusions of Interferon at the cancer center in Brevard. I had read all the information and listened to what nurses and oncologist had had to say. Yet, the unknowns were (and will be) present. But I have a new set of skis.....God's mercies, which He says "are new every morning." And I have the past experiences of His peace and His faithfulness, which have carried me through miles of previous trails. The knowledge of who HE is and what HE can do is a much greater power than understanding reactions and drug treatments. HIS abilities will absorb the bumps and drops, and HE will bring me safely down this mountain.
There is vast liberty in trusting what is underneath. What will happen tomorrow? How can we cope with the infinite mystery of the moment? What shall we do? Where shall we turn? When we contemplate the unknown fear of what is ahead, we discover as Moses did: "The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are His everlasting arms." (Dt. 33:27)
And when you trust those everlasting arms, you are enabled......not by any strength that is of yourself, but by the very strength that HE promises when we are at our weakest. Christ has gone before me and smoothed this trail; He has accomplished the work which allows me to "fix my eyes on HIM, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame." (Heb 12:2) That same joy is set before me: "You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. (Ps. 30:11) That same joy allows me the liberty to dance......even laugh.....with this mountain.
Beautifully said!! We are with you every step of the way! Love you, Kathy and Tom
ReplyDeleteI have a beautiful sunrise picture of Lake Toxaway from 12-6-07 posted on my refrigerator door that reminds me of you every day.(Fridge art in general reminds me of you) You are as vibrant as the rays of dawn and glowing with the reflections you see in all that is around you. Only you would think of dancing and skiing in conjunction with IV drips and chemicals and that is precisely why we love you so much!!! When I think of you I'm like Peter Pan asking Tinkerbell for fairy dust, knowing that you will shower me and others with your affection. I am now blowing some of that same fairy dust back in your direction hoping that you can feel all the love that surrounds you. We will all clap very, very hard so that you will be feeling better very soon! Lots of love, Cat
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