Cross country skiing

I decided to don a pair of cross country skis today and see how far I could get. The idea of gliding silently through the Colorado countryside has left me longing to get out and try the outdoor exercise for weeks. So my son Nathan and I entered the adventure this afternoon. 120 feet later we retired the skis and exchanged them for slippers and cowardly came back inside. Actually that isn't entirely true. I cowardly came inside. Nathan stayed out and did another 100 foot. He is so much more manly than me.

I guess I expected the whole skiing thing to be easier. I don't know what I was basing that on. I tried cross country nearly 30 years ago and absolutely hated it. We skied 7 miles in one day and I thought I was going to cry. Evidently time erases bad ski experiences.

I find that a little cross country is like a little of God. Following Him for any length of time quickly separates the men from the boys (we'll forget for a moment that my 9 year old made me look like a little girl this afternoon.) There comes a moment somewhere in the journey with the Lord that forces us to ask ourselves just how far we are willing to follow, especially when the going gets tough. I am deeply thankful that although I am a wimp on cross country skis, Papa and I have been traveling for quite awhile. And that is one adventure I will never give up.

In attempt to sound trite, I am reminded that 'cross country' is a sport described by two words - cross and country. Its funny to note that the sport bears the word 'cross' in it. I wonder sometimes how the world might change if we Christians were willing to pick up that item a little more often. But like my wimpy attempt at cross country this afternoon, we give up when the road gets too hard - loving others isn't for the faint of heart.

So what kind of cross country person will you be?