He's With Me on the Mountain...

From the first time a friend of mine floated the idea of going skiing, four things were at once concrete in my mind:

1. I knew not a single thing about skiing.

2. It was a monetary commitment that I would barely be able to handle.

3. It would be a chance to spend concentrated time with people my own age.

4. I absolutely had to go.

It was a trip that, personally, had a lot riding on it. I was determined for it to be a great experience; athletically, financially and socially.

The weeks leading up to the trip were restless. The Texas weather was swinging in and out of behaving like it was Christmastime, and I would dwell on all the different factors of the trip. I certainly had more pressing things to think about ("Oh, hello job."), but first and foremost was more often than not my ability- or rather, inability- to pay for this trip without emptying my bank account and/or asking my parents for a lift.

As it always does, life did not wait for me to get over this, and December jaunted right on through, bringing with it the sigh of relief of a successful Christmas program and the sweet respite of time with long-unseen family and friends. By the time I was back in Longview, January was here and seemed to be determined to get 2012 off to a raging start. Before I knew it, we were leaving for Colorado in ten days. I was committed to going, and I was for sure not backing out, but instead was steeling myself for not having any money when I would return.

Now, we've all seen our moms' friends on Facebook post some heart-tugging picture of a cute animal with the phrase "prayer works" in pink, curly letters, right? I see these and my immediate reaction is an over-dramatic eye-roll as I say, "whatever, Mom," to the screen.

But leave it to God to force that crow down my throat. Honestly, it's not even something I had been praying about. Throughout the last month, i had been praying for the ministerial events at church to go well and for Christmas to be a happy time. Even though it was a giant stress anvil on my chest, money was not something I was praying for.

Exactly a week before we were scheduled to shove off for the slopes, I went into work like it was any other day, the fact that the congregation had been collecting a love offering for a staff end-of-year bonus wasn't even a blip on my radar. Into my office walks my boss. He drops an envelope on my desk, says, "Thought you might want this," and exits. Inside the envelope was very nearly the amount that the ski trip was costing me.

Clearly, God has a sense of dramatic timing.

So, with that anvil lifted, I was able to breathe easier. The next week went by at a corrosively slow pace, each day sloshing by with all the rush of cold syrup. I think I went to sleep at 9:00 each night, just to GET ON WITH IT, ALREADY.

The Friday we left, I was a mess of fear, excitement, and anticipation for experiencing something totally new. The car ride was 17 hours of fitful sleep, episodes of Parks and Recreation, and gaping, flat expanses of bland West Texas road. When we finally reached the Colorado border, I was full of barely-controlled glee at the sight of snow along the highway.

At long last, we reached our destination: a charming wooden cabin that instantly brought to mind the endless mishmash of the Weasleys' Burrow, the Harry Potter house held up by magic. Either that or the treehouse from The Swiss Family Robinson. You pick which one sounds cooler, and that's what our cabin looked and felt like.

As we stretched out all over the cabin, happy to be out of the car, my friends and I waxed on what tomorrow had in store. I was the only person in our group who was taking ski lessons in the morning, and everyone else was quick to reassure me that this was a good idea. We spent the day acclimating to the cabin, before being hurried to bed in our various corners of the house (seriously, the boys slept in what I can only describe as a third-story roost at the top of a spiral staircase). I laid staring at the ceiling, unable to make myself fall asleep, thanks in part to the crackling flashes of static electricity I made whenever I would move, and also because, as excited as I was, I really had no earthly clue what to expect the next day.

The next day, we all clonked through the snow in our heavy ski gear, looking like ten really cold G.I. Joes. At the ski lodge, we set up camp inside and dispersed. Several of our group swaggered over to the advanced slopes. Another couple went to practice on the not-so-advanced hills. And I waddled off to my lesson.

What followed was a truly miserable experience. While I grant that I'm not as athletic as I look like I should be, learning how to do new things has never been a huge issue for me. Apparently, I can no longer say that. After three hours of sweating, falling, and climbing up a hill, I was seething mad at myself for not getting it. It didn't help that every "that's okay, you'll get it buddy," out of the instructor's mouth sounded like the worst kind of patronizing.

I was thoroughly grateful for the lunch break. I grumble-mumbled to myself on my way back up to our group's base, determined to leave my troubles at the door. The only excuse I have for what I did next is that I am only human.

Most of my friends were inside for lunch too, and when I walked in, they instantly lit up and began to congratulate me on getting through it and to ask me how I was doing. You know, the kind of things friends do. I, suddenly full of a desire to see no happy faces

, become a wasp, my caustic words stinging with frustration and anger. You know, the kind of thing a friend doesn't do.

Fully aware of how I was behaving and yet unwilling to stop, I sank myself into a chair to eat my lunch and enjoy my self-indulgent pity party. My friends gradually left to go out again, and I slowly began to admit to myself what a magnificent ass I had just been. The break passed too quickly, and by 1:30, I was out on the side of a mountain, resolutely resolved to make skiing my bitch, because I refused to have a miserable time.

A flash of a fuzzy animal crossed my mind's eye, and I remembered to say a soft prayer as I was lifted up the slope by a moving sidewalk. By the end of the afternoon lesson, I was only marginally better, but my attitude was greatly improved.

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Now, I have to pause and let you all in on the real reason this trip was so important to me. The friends I have made in Longview are some of the most spiritually grounded people I've ever (EVER) met. The fact that they've carved a space for me inside their already tight-knit group means more than I can say.

The part of my week I look forward to most is going to see all these friends at a Bible study at the church most of them attend. It's always a good time, full of catching up, discussions about faith, and every so often, we even play games! Going on this ski trip was for me a chance to better strengthen those bonds and really deepen those friendships.

I've always been a fairly social person. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I thrive, for better or worse, on being around others. Yet, I've fallen into a rut here in Longview. I get up, go to work, and go home. Unless there's a special occasion, I don't see friends my own age until Sunday nights. A big part of this is my job, which takes much time and effort. My job also happens to be at a church with a non-existent post-college young adult population. This is not a bad thing, in and of itself, mind you; it just really sucks when everyone your age is congregating somewhere else.

Beyond the vacation aspect and above the chance to see more snow than I have ever, this trip was chiefly about becoming better friends with these people.

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When the next day dawned, I was truly Steely Dan. I was ready to start having some fun and no one- not man, not mountain- was going to stand in my way.

That morning, our whole group went down a beginner's course together. It took me around nine falls and an hour and a half to get to the end, but doggone it, I made it. Even after a grand total of two Breckenridge employees were ever so kind enough to suggest I go back to ski school (it was all I could do to hold my tongue), I made it down the mountain.

Being among friends made the experience worlds better. Being able to laugh and to joke and to appreciate the time together made all the difference for me. By the afternoon of the second day, I was, dare I say it, enjoying myself.

After lunch, I was comfortable with my skill level enough to venture out on my own again. I was finally content to reflect on things thus far. As the lift carried me up to the trail-head, I wondered aloud another camp-bred question: "Where do you see God in this?"

I continued to ask myself this question all weekend long.

By the third day of skiing, I was having a blast. True, I was still falling sometimes, but at the end of that day, I had pushed myself farther than I had ever intended at the beginning of this experience. I was going down blues for cryin' out loud!

We spent that night packing and stuffing our faces with leftovers from the nights before. We were on a mission to not take back any food. With a mouthful of the best broccoli-cheese soup I've ever had, I sat thinking about that God question. I mean, sure I saw the wonders of God in the trees and the mountains and the snow...but where did I see God?

I saw God in my friends.

My friends who invited me on this trip. My friends who put up with my frustration. My friends who sympathized with my frustration. My friends who celebrated when I made it a little more down the mountain. My friends who helped me get back up when I really didn't want to.

My friends who I definitely feel closer to after having gone on this trip.

This definitely wasn't one of those faith journeys that you hear about at conferences where God came to me in the lowest place possible. No way was it like that- come on, we were, like, a bajillion feet above sea level!

But seriously, sometimes God just wants you to be a sponge, refueling, recharging by just being around and growing closer with other strong spirits. That's what this trip did for me.

I said my goal was to become better friends with my friends. As I've had some great conversations and shared some pretty major news with a few of them already since coming back from Colorado, I'd like to think that was a success.

To Ben, Emily, Lauren, Elick, Jared, Brandi, Jesse, Greg, and Diana: thanks for a wonderful weekend. I don't think I'll ever be able to ski again without thinking about all of us together.

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2012 Resolution Watch: I'm down five pounds (thanks skiing!) and have started Blue Like Jazz. As you can hopefully infer, I'm also writing. The youth group is planning on remodeling the youth room in a couple of months, too! Pray this all continues.

-Danul