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<\/a>My long-time friend Ivana invited us to come to the ski camp her husband runs in Hinterstoder, a quaint village in the Austrian Alps. I went there making sure everyone understood I was not a skier or interested in learning. I would either stay in our hotel in the village, take walks, drink tea and read books, or I\u2019d ride a gondola up to the top and sit in one of the cute Austrian restaurants, sipping cappuccino and enjoying watching the good people in their ski gear having fun. Because that\u2019s what I have always done. That was\u00a0me.\u00a0<\/i>I am an artist; I don\u2019t like cold, and I have never been athletic. I had made these nice labels for myself a long time ago, and I displayed them now with pride and without a morsel of insecurity or the interest to change.<\/span><\/p>\nOn the first day of our arrival, however, Ivana had laid out all the beautiful skiing apparel for me \u2013 the sleek black snow pants, fitted blue jacket (that I inspected closely trying to understand what in the world made it so warm and impermeable to wind and water) and a hat with a pom-pom, which I thought made me look younger (which, let\u2019s be honest, is a huge incentive to hit the ski slopes). I jumped at the opportunity to model the clothes and snap a few pictures. When Ivana began to fit me for ski boots, I laughed and joked but played along \u2026 I was surprised by the excitement I suddenly felt about actually getting on skis.<\/span><\/p>\nWe had wanted to take this trip for many winters. Matthew was a fearless man who would do anything for a thrill. He loved Ivana and Goran. And he loved to take our sons out of their comfort zones while passing on his sense of freedom to them. Life just got busy and complicated, and we were waiting for that magical \u2018right time\u2019 to do this.<\/span><\/p>\nMaybe I wanted to try to fill his role and be there for our boys \u2013 even just a little bit. And maybe because I knew now that there is no promise of tomorrow. \u2026 Whatever the reasons, the next day, I boarded the gondola carrying a pair of skis instead of a backpack with a book and a journal inside.<\/span><\/p>\nGoran, our ski instructor was patient and thorough. My kids picked it up faster than me, and they soon took off. I was surprised how excited and unself-conscious I felt despite being left behind on a baby slope with five- and six-year-olds. I couldn\u2019t decide whether the lack of judgment was coming from my friends, from other skiers who didn\u2019t care one bit, or from myself. I felt completely present, and I quickly emerged into the excitement of conquering a new skill.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Alps were grand and gorgeous, welcoming and safe. The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and the sun was warm enough for me not to feel any cold. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nI worked on my turns and stops diligently, not even bothering to check out the restaurant \u2013 I had more important things to do.<\/span><\/p>\nOn the third day, Ivana decided I was ready for the training hill. I trusted her, and so we headed for the \u2018shulift.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\nI have trusted Ivana my whole life. She has been there for me in many of\u00a0my life-changing experiences \u2013 from arranging a meeting with God when I was a teenager, to helping me make the decision to leave Croatia many years ago, to supporting me through Matthew\u2019s illness, and to coaching me to overcome some of my biggest fears. She was a master skier, and I knew she wouldn\u2019t let me do something I couldn\u2019t handle.<\/span><\/p>\nAt the top of the hill, I realized in horror the hill was much steeper and bigger than it looked from the bottom. \u201cThis is still a training hill,\u201d she said, sensing what I was feeling. \u201cWe\u2019ll go really slow.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nIt took us a long time to get down that hill. I accidentally fell once and purposely threw myself down several times so I wouldn\u2019t fall. In the middle of all this, I felt like I wanted to quit. It was still a long way down, and I was getting tired \u2026 I didn\u2019t think I could do this\u2026 My legs began to shake, and thoughts like \u201cYou are such a fool for thinking you can do this\u201d began to swarm in my brain.<\/span><\/p>\nIvana stood there with me, patient, steady, encouraging me, looking for the flatter sections of the slope where I could easily stop and catch my breath, clear my thoughts, and regain focus and confidence. She found the right words, and showed me just the right body movements to get me to take the next, small baby step. Just like she had done a hundred times before. With love of a friend who loves you across the ocean and through a million years \u2026<\/span><\/p>\nWhen we were almost at the bottom, she said gently to me, \u201cYou can let go now \u2026 Just slide down \u2026 toward the restaurant \u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nI giggled nervously and let go.<\/span><\/p>\nMy 12-year-old son swooshed beside me with a speed and confidence of a veteran skier \u2026 \u201cHe is a natural,\u201d Ivana said. \u201cHe has no fear,\u201d I said. \u201cHe hasn\u2019t been down the hills and roads on which we fall and hurt ourselves. He is too young for his mind to bring up the memories of past failures, scary life-slopes and that after-the-fact horror that sinks in when we realize what we had just gone through. After the adrenaline rush is over, the mind takes over the surrender and creates \u2018information\u2019 to keep us safe from harm (and similar experiences) for next time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nI\u00a0went right past the restaurant and back to my baby hill. I was not going to quit. Or get discouraged. Or talk myself into slapping my old labels back on and forgetting this whole idea \u2013 it\u2019s just not me to give up. Like with so many things in my life, I was open to change and transformation that so beautifully help us shed the learned fears, and I would be courageous to live fully. And conquer slopes no matter what they look like. Know that we are never left alone \u2013 sometimes there will be friends to support us, be that \u201cGod in skin\u201d for us; and sometimes, we will rely on the inner strength and connection to the life force within us.<\/span><\/p>\nBack on the plane, I decided to stop thinking about what I had no control over \u2026 life will be what it will be. I\u2019ll take the big scary hill ahead one step at a time. \u00a0Perhaps I\u2019ll fall; perhaps I\u2019ll have to throw myself down a few times in order not to pick up too much speed and crash. Eventually, however, I\u2019ll get to a place where I\u2019ll be safe to let go and slide down the no-longer-scary hill, giggling with joy.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cMama, there\u2019s the movie you wanted to see: \u2018Murder on the Orient Express,\u2019\u201d my 12-year-old son said to me, smiling.<\/span><\/p>\nI enjoyed it \u2026especially the theme song at the end that helped me release the pain I had been holding in.<\/span><\/p>\nAt home, after my kids had returned to school (this had been their spring break) and the house became too quiet, I sat down to my piano and sang the song from the movie \u2026 \u00a0There\u2019s no use distracting from pain that comes because we love deeply \u2013 or numbing, or labeling ourselves \u2018strong\u2019 and \u2018put together\u2019 and \u2018in control.\u2019 Life is a beautiful, ever-changing journey \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n
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<\/a>My long-time friend Ivana invited us to come to the ski camp her husband runs in Hinterstoder, a quaint village in the Austrian Alps. I went there making sure everyone understood I was not a skier or interested in learning. I would either stay in our hotel in the village, take walks, drink tea and read books, or I\u2019d ride a gondola up to the top and sit in one of the cute Austrian restaurants, sipping cappuccino and enjoying watching the good people in their ski gear having fun. Because that\u2019s what I have always done. That was\u00a0me.\u00a0<\/i>I am an artist; I don\u2019t like cold, and I have never been athletic. I had made these nice labels for myself a long time ago, and I displayed them now with pride and without a morsel of insecurity or the interest to change.<\/span><\/p>\n