by Gwen McMath
This story was written about 2004 after my daughter, Vanessa, was killed in an automobile accident.
The Bible talks about a woman’s hair being her glory. While I was growing up I was obsessed with how my hair looked as well as how the rest of me looked at all times and in all places. Being so obsessed with my appearance kept me busy and I didn’t have time for being athletic at all. That is why learning to ski at age thirty-six would be such an accomplishment for me.
Junior high school in the early sixties was great to me because we developed our looks instead of our athletic skills. I was ahead of myself in thinking that girls just wanted to have fun! However, some of the obsession I had with my looks were a downfall to me. Young girls like me in the early sixties spent a whole lot of time working on their hair, makeup, and clothes while we devoted little or no time to keeping our bodies fit. In fact, no one even liked to get sweaty! This mentality fit into our physical education program and more times than not we girls used the excuse that we were having our monthly periods so we would not have to suit out in P.E. (can you believe we got away with this?). This was an example of what I would do to escape any physical effort. This philosophy followed me into adulthood and is why my story is such an unusual one for me because it did include physical activity.
Now fast forward to 1984—I am now married and have three young girls ages three, five, and eight. My husband Charley and I have just joined The First Baptist Church in Lake Dallas, Texas. We joined for a number of reasons not just the spiritual such as social events for our family and to make life long friends. One of these friends, Ron Hamby, had invited our family to join a large group of people who were going skiing at Winter Park, Colorado. It sounded great, so we quickly accepted the invitation and off we went to learn a new skill. I must add to this that as my family began to grow away from the baby stage, I realized that we needed to do things that we could do as a family. This had been a prayer of mine when we were invited on this trip. During all of this I hadn’t given one thought to the fact that I was less than athletic. What was I thinking?
When we arrived in Colorado it was all that I had imagined it would be. It was the perfect winter scene. The mountains were beautiful, the snow was captivating, and the ski lodge was just as I had imagined it would be—hot chocolate, great food and phenomenal views of the mountains. When we learned to get off the ski lifts we were in a new land. The snow glistened, the cold air blew in your face, and the feeling of freedom that you felt as you glided down the mountain was amazing. There were beautiful evergreen trees all around and as the other skiers flew by you their ski clothes stood out against the white snow like flowers popping out in the springtime. In the town below was the feeling of an enchanted small village just like in a Dickens novel. There were all kinds of things for the children to do at night such as ice skating and tubing down small ski slopes. It was a true winter wonderland.
We started out the first day taking ski lessons—my children and my husband, who all had risk taking personalities, did wonderfully well. I, on the other hand, was a different story. I was scared of being out of control. And don’t forget, my physical skills were non-existent. I did know how to roller skate which helped me a little. I hobbled through the lessons for a couple of days and then the big day came when we all went up on the slopes together. It was obvious my family was way better than me so I decided to go off on my own, I started down the hill and fell in a big heap. I got up again and fell in a big heap. The third time I somehow managed to cross my skis in the snow and had to take my skis off to stand up. It was at this moment I begin to cry and whine my way down the hill thinking I will never be able to do this. One of my new friends, Susan Anderson, (a kindergarten teacher and a sweet Christian) took me aside and persevered with me for the next two days until I could at last turn on skis and ski down the hill without killing myself. She did this by having me follow her imprints in the snow. We went slow and steady and my fear began to dissipate. It was replaced with the pure enjoyment of sailing down the hills on my skis and enjoying the beautiful scenery around me. I had successfully learned to ski at the age of thirty-six!
Many wonderful years of skiing came and went after this, and our family enjoyed many ski trips together. In fact, as the family has gotten older now and added a son-in-law, we still have been able to enjoy yearly trips together. I’m so glad that I kept trying so many years ago to learn to ski because it has led to so many wonderful family memories. It makes me want to step outside myself again and be willing to learn something new, which is, after all, what keeps us young, isn’t it?
As I began to contemplate this story I realized I wasn’t finished with it just yet. I had not seen the story within the story until now. Susan Anderson had really taught me so much more than skiing those days. She had taught me some things I would later need for life. Susan had two wonderful teenage boys, David and Bill. Bill, the youngest, later on died in a drowning accident while he was a freshman at the University of Texas. Our community grieved along with her family at the loss of such a wonderful young man at such an early age. Then in 2003 my own beautiful daughter was killed in a tragic car accident. To quote Susan’s letter to me from that time, she said, “There may be some that expect you to recover at a set time. I will tell you that grief takes as long as it takes. I can remember finally being able to get through one day without crying. Then it would be several days, then a week, a month, and so on. There are many small steps on your road ahead. Be willing to take the baby steps. You can and will heal, but there will always be an empty space in your heart that only Jesus Christ can fill.” How could I have known that so many years before when I had followed her imprints in the snow that they would some day be a comfort to me as I struggle once again to follow in her footsteps as I struggle to get through the worst pain I have ever experienced? There were parallels between then and now—in order to learn to ski I did everything I could, took lessons and blindly kept going in the midst of fear in order to accommodate my family. In the midst of the hard lessons, there was still beauty all around me. As I struggle once again to follow in Susan’s footsteps and deal with my grief I find myself once again doing things that are hard for me. I have been to a psychiatrist for the first time in my life, I am going to a grief counselor, and yet there is still beauty all around me. And Susan, thank you, not only did you help me so many years ago, but now when I think of you I know that if you got through this with the help of Jesus Christ I can follow your imprints again and be successful. Though it has taken me a long while I believe with God’s help I can still see the beautiful things along the trail of life as I once did the ski trail.