Everyone has a story. Mine isn’t more remarkable than anyone else’s but just for the sake of background, I’ll fill you in. I am a first-generation Finn. My parents, both from Finland, moved to the USA in the early 1960s. A few years later, I was born. My first English word, I’m told, was “underdog.” What significance does that hold? I don’t know. It’s just fun. Today I want to tell you about the time that this Finn learned to cross-country ski.
A time of wonder
We moved to New Jersey when I was very young. I loved the outdoors and spent hours exploring the woods behind our house with my father. Looking back, I wonder how I tolerated the cold weather. While I don’t mind cool weather, snow is something I don’t care for nowadays.
I loved being outside, no matter what time of year it was. But I especially loved being outside during the winter. We lived in an area where there were plenty of ski resorts and lakes. During the summer, there was an abundance of outdoor fun to be had, from building treehouses to fishing and swimming. It was a great place to grow up.
The winter, for me, was a time of wonder. When it snowed in our part of the state, it snowed. I relished making snow forts, having snowball fights, sledding, ice skating, and learning how to cross-country ski.
Not downhill, only cross-country
Yes, you read right. Cross-country skiing. Being a Finn, I had no real interest in downhill skiing. Cross-country skiing is our forte. Everyone knew how to cross-country ski back in the “old country.” My parents told me tales of how they skied to school, church, and family gatherings during Finland’s cold, long winters. Cross-country skiing requires incredible physical stamina. There are no ski lifts and no pre-marked hills; it’s all about strength and skill. It’s just you against nature.
I began learning how to cross-country ski not long after moving to New Jersey, using my mother’s skis. There were hills behind our house, just perfect for my mission to learn how to ski like a true Finn. I had visions of myself whipping around trees and hills in the woods. But that first year of learning how to ski was not at all as I had envisioned.
Nosebleeds and bruises
Instead of expertly navigating the hills and valleys, I spent a lot of time with my face planted in the snow or crashing into trees. My father tried to teach me as best he could, but I was determined that my way of skiing would serve me just fine. I didn’t give his advice much thought and began tumbling down the hills face first. I had a lot of nosebleeds and bruises on my knees.
Dad stood at the tops and bottoms of the hills, yelling instructions and gritting his teeth as I fell. He probably wondered if he would get through my learning how to cross-country ski. I initially shut a lot of what he said and I tumbled my way down the hills. Those first months of learning were pretty tough. I spent more time on my knees in the snow than I did standing on the skis. Instead of anticipating going down the hills, I was afraid of crashing into trees. But I was too embarrassed to admit I was wrong, at least for a while.
What was it that Dad said?
Around the middle of that first winter of learning, I grew tired of the nosebleeds and bruises and found myself thinking, “What was it that Dad said?” Then, as I began to recall his words, I put what he said into practice. Soon, I was spending less time on my face in the snow. I have a vivid memory of one of the first big hills I climbed up and successfully skied down without falling—I was so proud of myself! And Dad was at the bottom of the hill that day, waiting for me and congratulating me. As my skills improved, I’d say to myself while passing by trees that I used to run into, “It’s all downhill from here!”
The next year, at Christmastime, I had my hopes set on getting a new set of skis. We began to open presents, and my heart slowly sank. There weren’t many presents for me under the tree, and I watched my sister and brother open present after present. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Just when all hope was lost, coming up the steps wearing a plastic Santa Claus mask, Dad appeared with a big pair of orange cross-country skis in his arms. This is one of my best childhood memories.
Using our faith to cross-country ski
Our heavenly Father is like that: He sets a landscape before us (life) and gives us skis (faith) to navigate with. He stands there, instructing us on how to use those skis. Sometimes we see what’s before us and think we know the way to go and how to use those skis. We end up crashing into trees or faceplanting in the snow again and again until the bruises speak louder than our pride. Our Father continues coaching us in our stubbornness and waits for us at the bottom of the hill.
All of us have life set before us, like the hills and valleys in front of a cross-country skier. Some of those journeys we take on our “faith skis” are steep and scary. The only way to navigate without disaster is to have faith in the instructions that our Father has given us. The only way to get to the bottom is by faith, for faith is the way of the kingdom.
“Behold, as for the proud one, his soul is not right within him; but the righteous will live by his faith.” Habakkuk 2:4 NASB
Faith is the only way we can maneuver these hills and valleys of life. It’s not up to us how it works. We simply have to trust that God knows better than we do.
It’s all downhill from here
Living by faith is like cross-country skiing: we have to listen or we will fall. The terrain is rough—sometimes isolated and cold—but we have our skis. We risk disaster if we try to use them the way we think is best. If we can trust Him, we’ll get down the hills with fewer bruises.
Maybe you’re struggling to remember how to stand on your skis. God is a faithful Father. He is cheering you on there at the bottom of the hill. Stop for a moment and listen. His voice will come to your ears. Once you hear it, you can straighten your shoulders because it’s all downhill from here.
One response to “Learning how to cross-country ski, operation face-plant”
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I too learned to ski in Finland and thought I would be a ski jumper in the Olympics. My 2 older siblings held me down and wouldn’t let me go on the high ski jump as they were protecting me from injury and I thought they were ruining my future. lol
I now have used my faith skis on some very big jumps and still learning.
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