Mad Skillz for a Phat Mom

09Apr08

Skiing is one of the few things my family all enjoys together. We are all decently skilled and willing to accept the challenges.

We just so happened to be at Park City during the X-Games World Championship Superpipe Tournament so thrill-seeking and showing off were part of the hype. One day my son decided to try something new- a terrain park. These are primarily for the urban, skateboarder, parkour-type people. The kids who ‘board, and listen to their skull candy and say words like “phat” to compliment each other.

Well, I wanted to live on the edge a little with my son, so I decided to be a terrain park mom. I think you call a 40-year-old terrain park mom a wannabee or perhaps an idiot. Park City has a beginners terrain park, but I didn’t know it was for beginners. I thought I was hangin’ with the crew, honing my mad skillz. I did a couple of wimpy jumps, a rail in slow motion, and some kind of picnic table, although I’m sure they don’t call it that. I heard some people using the word ‘kicker,’ but I just made sure not to call it anything.

Anyway, after about 4 runs down the terrain park, we decided to take the lift to another area of the mountain. Jonathan and I took a tough trail we hadn’t done before and found ourselves at the top of another terrain park. “Cool!” I said to myself, not knowing if the word ‘cool’ is still cool or not. “Sweet!” “Phat..” ?? Whatever, I was ready to do this right.

From up above, the jump looked like the other jumps at the beginners terrain park. I mustered up my bravado like Barney Fife about to capture the criminal. I gathered speed, hit the dip, and pushed off the top. From behind, it looked like I got about 2 feet of “air” according to Jonathan, but I didn’t know this was an aerialist jump until I was airborne. On the other side was a steep 15-20 foot drop-off!

I flailed around in the air– arms, head, legs, skis, and poles going willy-nilly in all directions. I knew this was the end of my life; I was going out in a blaze of pain and humiliation, but at the last moment something reminded me that I might survive if I tucked. Saved. Barely. The landing felt like a car wreck, but somehow I ended up skis on the ground and limbs in tact.

At least physically, I was okay. Skiing within my limits is a good metaphor me. I hate limits, but reality serves them up no matter what my preference. When we fail to acknowledge our own limitations, we become more susceptible to big mistakes, burnout, frustration, and even worse disorders of the mind. No matter what we are doing, whether it is learning new skillz, or stretching our personal development, acknowledging our limitations is going to part of the process. Some of us tend to imagine limitations that aren’t really there, and others of us will default to ignoring those that are a reality.

These limits are an important part of peace, humility, and joy. Just because I want to do something doesn’t mean I have the skills or the emotional maturity to make it work the way I want it to. Lately, God has been teaching me that trusting Him will always require being mindful of my limitations. Even when I wish they didn’t exist.

© AmyinDallas, 2007-2008

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