Bend Your Knees

It was a few days after we got engaged.
We decided to go skiing for the day.
We went with our dear friend who would be our best man.
He brought a date as well.

I agreed to go.
I had never skied before, but I was a quick learner.
I remember wearing my purple jacket, gloves, and a hat.
I was wearing none of the things that I saw other people wearing.

They were the serious skiers who went down the more difficult hills.
I was content to be on the beginner’s slope.
I think I was more afraid of the ski lift than anything else.
I have to get on and off while it’s moving?

We went to the lodge to rent our skis.
It was obvious that we were novices since most people brought their own.
I was fitted with skis for my height and found the boots cumbersome.
When I saw the length of those skis, I wondered how I would ever walk in them.

Sidestep….you sidestep, the man behind the counter said with annoyance.
I was given poles and quick, scripted directions with minimal expression.
Got that?
No, but I had to save face, so I pretended.

My soon-to-be husband was confident in his ability, as was our future best man.
His date was not so sure.
I liked her honesty; she didn’t care about appearances.
We became quick friends because she saw through my feigned confidence.

Some people sidestepped with such ease.
I sidestepped like an awkward beginner.
All pretense was laid aside; I couldn’t fake it any more.
I was supposed to get on a moving ski lift by looking over my shoulder as it approached.

Somehow, I got on; my heavy skis dangling over the mountainside.
I am not afraid of heights, but this was a bit nerve wracking.
I had no idea how I was to get off this moving chair and then ski down a mountain.
It’s a beginner’s slope, my soon-to-be husband corrected.

We reached the top.
There was nowhere else to go, but down.
I had to will myself to get off the ski lift.
I had to trust in the few instructions I was given.

I remember hearing instructions being yelled to me as I maneuvered the skis and poles.
I was going down the mountain, um…slope, at breakneck speed.
Bend your knees! Bend your knees!
No one told me that crisscrossing the mountain was best.

I think my soon-to-be husband thought he was going to lose me that day.
I could hear him yelling all sorts of directions that were lost in the swishing sound.
I was too scared to bend my knees so I was standing straight up going way too fast.
His voice and his swishing were getting closer to me.

I saw the bottom, the flat lands, and I was never so glad to see anything in my life!
I was able to stop myself without falling.
Someone else, who shall remain nameless, was not as fortunate.
In his desperation to reach me, he fell and bent the ski poles pretty badly.

Remember when I never fell the day we went skiing….?
It became one of THOSE stories you pull out every now and then.

Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, He will come with vengeance; with divine retribution, He will come to save you.” (Isaiah 35:3,4)

What if we went through life the way I skied downhill?
Going through our days at breakneck speed.
Feigning confidence. Saving face. Never admitting how much we don’t know.

I’ve got this covered.

Then, in the background we hear it.
Bend your knees! Bend your knees!
It is the call to pray.

We can’t do this life all by ourselves.
We are standing in our false pride and our feigned confidence.
We look down from our self-made heights with our feet dangling.
How do I get on and off this thing, while it’s moving?

You must bend your knees!

The world will yell its instructions.
But you must not listen.
You journey; you crisscross; you avoid obstacles.

But you must bend your knees or your journey will be disastrous.
Pray to the Father, in the name of the Son, in the power of the Spirit.

Talk to Him.
Listen to His instructions.
Bend Your knees!