Near
© Angel’s original
I am freezing as the snow melts through my clothes and thermal undergarments from each fall. People of all ages, including senior citizens and young children, ski effortlessly pass me. A few kind skiers stop to help. They give me the same instructions that Larry, my ski instructor had given me. After some time, I refuse their help. In theory, I know how to “snow-plough” (Don’t let your skis cross. Keep them parallel. Lean left… lean right…) but the instructions don’t work for me.
“Maybe I can walk down instead,” I think to myself. I press the quick release to detach the stiff, heavy boots from my skis. My legs sink almost knee-high into the snow. “Dumb idea. I can’t ski down and I can’t walk down.” It must be more than an hour that I have been at this. I am exhausted.
One more helpful lady skier stops by. (Not another one.) She can see my distress. She helps me up and we exchange a few words. (More instructions). I am tired and she knows it. She explains something she wants to do to help me. (What is she talking about?) She positions herself behind me, puts one arm around my waist and brings her body close to mine, her skis parallel outside mine. “Watch the skis and don’t let them cross.” She pushes off even before I can say another word.
The steep ski path is full of twists and turns with bushes and trees to obstruct our descent. I see the trees coming closer and closer toward us. “We’re going to crash!” I shout. “No, we’re not! Watch your skis – don’t let them cross. Lean left!” She leans left and I find myself naturally following her rhythm and every slight body movement. We ski pass other skiers. There is no time to enjoy the picturesque Aspen Mountains around us.
I now am doing what I had been repeatedly told to do. My skis are parallel and not crossing. I am not falling. I hear her calm assurances and simple instructions whispering in my ears – Don’t let your skis cross. Keep them parallel. Lean left… lean right… – we are skiing as one and I am exhilarated. I can’t believe we have reached the bottom. How fun!
I turn around to thank my rescuer~teacher – but she is nowhere to be seen.
My skiing experience happened about twenty years ago. (Yes it has been that long). Over the days that I took to recover from the sore back and strained muscles, Matthew 1:23 came repeatedly to mind. “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel – which means, “God with us.”
When God sent his Son Jesus to come to us, he come not only to walk beside us, or to walk ahead of us, or to be above or behind us. He chose to live INSIDE of us. I cannot nearer be!
Near, so very near
Nearer I could not be
For in the person of his Son
I am as near as he
Dear, so very dear
Dearer I could not be
For the love wherewith he loves his Son
Such is his love for me
- Author unknown
I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. – Galatians 2:20
Come near to God and he will come near to you. – James 4:8
Senior Citizen
a poem
© Angel’s original . Written
She tells her stories
over and over again
same stories
same pauses, punchlines and exclamations
She tells them
as if they were but yesterday
savouring, re-living
milking them
It doesn’t matter if no one is listening
her pleasure is in the telling
And, if you would allow her, indulge her, pleasure her
Listen
It would delight her no end
She tells her stories
as if she had never told them before
Of dreams and hope and laughter
tears and joys
Her stories — minus the sting of pain
filtered
forgiven
better than reality
Time has a way of fixing the pain.
