life, purpose, and a prayer

It's been so long since I've written anything remotely meaningful, and as I was taking a few minutes this evening to scan the blog, I realized how many events, memories, and small moments that have been forgotten, but thankfully are immortalized on this little digital memory keeper.  Unfortunately, the past year my personal journal writing and the blog have both suffered greatly.  As much as I tell myself I will be better, can't promise anything, but for tonight, the urge to write without an attempt to catch up on family events, post pictures, inspirational quotes, or humorous anecdotes is strong and I should follow the simple nudge to write a few musings . . .

Friday evening Ryan received word that he had been accepted to BYU and called us immediately to share the news.  After celebrating on the phone, Chris looked at me and said, "well, it's really happening now, we've done our job and he's prepared - nice work."  Ryan is still waiting to hear back from three other schools before making a final decision and I'm making every effort to make these last 6 months at home as meaningful as possible.  There will truly be an emptiness in our home when Ryan leaves.  I'll have to devote an entire post to "the things I'll miss the most when Ryan is gone," but for now, I'm cherishing our time together, especially our late night chats when we have a few minutes to connect after everyone else is in bed.

Life is transitory.  Everything is in motion, shifting, changing.  Little Elizabeth is literally transforming before my eyes, each day shedding her little girl appearance and gradually morphing into an almost pre-teen.  Sigh.

The other night, around midnight after another snow storm had left it's mark with another foot of snow, I stepped outside for a short walk.  It's been awhile since I made my way into that unique peaceful silence, reserved especially for nights like this.  Although it's been a long winter, with no end of the cold, snow, and dreary days in sight; breathing that sharp, clean air into my lungs and listening to the soft crunch of snow under my boots while looking up at the brilliant, clear winter sky was transformative.  Instead of complaining about this winter (for about 10 minutes ;), I was grateful for a moment in time when everything seemed perfect, yet transitory.  Realizing that the next day, if I were to step outside at the same time, I could not recreate that moment.  It wouldn't be the same. The snow would have time to settle, the air would be a different temperature, my boots wouldn't make fresh tracks, and the delicate ice crystals floating in the black sky would be nonexistent, and therefore, the rush of gratitude and happiness most likely would not take place.

Why do I muse about such moments in time?  I suppose it's because while I was out connecting with winter and appreciating a small gift, my mind drifted to the constant shifting and changing within our own lives.  Living a purposeful life requires adjustment to these changes without clinging to a version of how things used to be, or worse, an unrealistic expectation of how we think life should be now or in the future.  I guess that's why embracing the transitory nature of all things, especially relationships, is essential.  It's complex, but we change, the people around us change, and realizing the great potential in each transition is truly beautiful.

So, my life is in a flux of transition right now.  Ryan's preparing to spread his wings and leave the nest, Caroline is anxiously awaiting her 16th birthday and drivers license, Sophie will be turning 12 soon and entering the young women's program, and Liza Lou is bound and determined at almost nine to be the most independent of them all.  I am adjusting to the needs and demands of my little flock daily, and realize that without prayer, I am not as compassionate, patient, or adaptable.  It's that simple.  Prayer keeps me strong, helps me gain insights and wisdom I know I couldn't glean on my own, and gives me the quiet assurance that everything will work out, it always does.

that time of year again

Well, with a bunch of Cantera happenings floating around my brain that need to be captured on the blog and not exactly sure where to start, I just have get something new up.

So, here are few ski pics I just found from last March . . .

Ahhh, nothing better than spring skiing.  I doubt Chris even owns a ski jacket or goggles ;).

Annual ski time with our Colorado cousins . . . 

three days on the slopes and nonstop giggles from these girls!

With Ryan in Honeycomb . . . attempting to find some untouched powder.

We are loving the new season and thrilled that already we have better snow than we did much of last year. Saturdays are pure bliss - the teens are at Snowbird, Liza is at Solitude with ski team, and I have the option of either time on the slopes with Sophie or a quiet day at home.  My favorite part of the day is when everyone trickles in around 4pm with their mountain stories.  Here is sampling from this weekend . . .

Ryan:  "The cirque today was so good, I almost cried.  Really, Mom, it was unbelievable - fresh tracks all day . . . did I tell you I almost cried it was so good?!"

Liza:  "I guess I didn't get my boot in my binding the right way after lunch because half way up the chairlift my ski fell off . . .  but don't worry, my coach is really fast, so we waited on top and he found my ski and brought it back." 

Caroline:  "I froze my butt off."

Why ski?

Unparalleled BEAUTY . . . 

the spectacular view from the Great Western lift at Brighton

Heading up Powderhorn at Solitude

The view from Mineral Basin at Snowbird

Couldn't resist this shot while on Apex (Solitude) one afternoon earlier this season.

The spectacular BLUE skies.  Snowbird last week - unreal - I've never seen blue this color before, it was practically purple and my camera phone hardly does it justice.  And yes, my friend and I had just skied down that ridge (after getting lost and realizing it was the only way down - had to take a pic to commemorate the occasion ;-).

Solitude with the crew and cousins.

Balance.

 mentally, physically, emotionally.  

2010 Catch-up post #3

FAMILY MILESTONE

I thought I'd be finished with my "catch-up" posts by the end of January, but unfortunately I still have a couple left.  So, in celebration of winter and since we are currently in the midst of the 2011 ski season, I'll write today's post on last year's season and why it was so special.

Hmmm, not just "special," rather monumental because for the first time since Ryan was born we could ALL ski together, yep, all six of us could ride up the same lifts and ski the same runs  . . . it was a long awaited moment, but last March as we ascended Snowbasin's Needles Express gondola, and then stood together at the top of the hill for a quick picture, I realized this long awaited dream finally came true.  Every person on skis with no complaining that it's too cold, or someone's too tired, or our struggle with boredom on the bunny hill.  For our family (especially me since Chris only skis a couple times a year), this was a HUGE milestone. 

Now this year, Liza stays right up with mom and Sophie has ventured off on her latest adventure - tackling black diamonds.  We have Caroline to thank for that one.  She thought it would be hilarious to take Sophie down "Challenger" at Solitude and watch her struggle and complain since I wasn't around for a rescue operation.  However, Sophie made it down with a smile and probably gained the greater satisfaction by proving her big sister wrong :-).

Some pictures from ski season 2010 . . .

Liza in lessons at Alta

Chris taking it easy on Sunnyside with Liza

FINALLY . . . riding the chairlift together - beyond the bunny hill.

Liza beginning to make her way down the "big kids hill."

Pinch me - they are finally able to ski with FRIENDS - liberation!

And the best part . . . breaking for lunch on the plaza (Brighton last year).

Feels Like Christmas

SNOW!  Yes, snow, the wonderful Christmas kind of snow that falls softly overnight and blankets the neighborhood the next morning . . . just what we need to really feel the warmth of the season.  After decorating gingerbread cookies last night and watching the classic "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" the little girls were skipping around the house this morning after we had hot chocolate with whipped cream, and then while Christmas tunes played in their bedroom as they got ready for school.

Ahhhh, I love it.  It's mornings like these when the excitement from Elizabeth is just electric and is truly what makes Christmas so special . . . those feelings you remember from your childhood.  It's those memories of  family, warmth, and heightened anticipation, combined with the smells, sounds, and tastes of the season that one never forgets.

Hopefully we'll have more mornings like today this season . . . even if the girls did get to school 30 minutes late!!

Oh, and I'm putting the thought that I haven't STARTED Christmas shopping yet, completely out of my mind . . . I think today I'll enjoy more hot cocoa and turn on the fire :-).

Waiting for winter . . .

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

~ Robert Frost ~

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Transcendent beauty

January. I love this month. I love the color of blue in the evenings, I refer to it as a "winter blue" you can only see during this time of year just before darkness sets in. I love watching Orion twinkling each night above the mountain ridge out our south windows. I love the ice crystals that sparkle on top of the snow in the sunlight. The newness of the year, the clean, crisp air, and especially the silence of the snow. What's not to love?

Thursday morning after I packed up my ski gear and dropped the kids off for school, I began my weekly ascent up Big Cottonwood canyon for what I knew would be one of the most beautiful days this year. Not only was it going to be an amazing day, but the drive up the canyon that early was truly a moving experience. I don't think I've ever seen the mountains, the snow laden pine trees, meandering streams, and rising sun more lovely. It felt like a winter wonderland, and when I drove the famous "S" curve and faced west for just a moment to glance at the canyon walls illuminated by the morning sun, it literally brought tears to my eyes. I checked the time and realized this unparalleled beauty is only 15 minutes away and wondered why in the world don't I drive up here more often!? I almost wished I were snowshoeing or cross-country skiing rather than downhill - just to take it all in . . . the complete stillness of the canyon on such a day.

I mentioned my drive to a fellow skier and she told me she had the same experience - we described it as almost spiritual. There is something to be said about noticing the beauty around us, truly drinking it in, and feeling deeply touched. What a place, what a morning . . . so I choose to write about it because it moved me, and reminded me of the respect and reverence we feel when we turn ourselves over the transcendent beauty that is all around us.