The Ski Trip

The Ski Trip

I’m sitting by the fireplace, listening to instrumental Christmas music and thinking about you – what God has done this year in your life, how He holds you so gently and bestows all of us with His love and mercy. I’ve been asking God what he would want you to hear this time – It was years ago …

A lovely Colorado day, winter 2000. The “scare” tactics of Y2K had come and gone. In January, Brian, Jessica and I wanted to go cross-country skiing. We loaded all our gear up in our truck. Our traditional ski lunch was packed with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples/Cuties, chips and cookies. Off we went. The delight of crisp snow under our skis invigorated each gliding step we took. We were on a trail leading to Rampart Reservoir. The beautiful mountain blue sky, the smell of damp Ponderosa Pine ... and did you know when you get close enough, with the breeze and sun just right, the faint scent of vanilla emotes from the bark on the trunk? The trip to the lake is gorgeous. There's a small brook you can see sometimes through the trees. We were striding along chatting, enjoying this day that God had given us. We were rounding a corner when we saw off to our left a long-horn bull. We looked to our right and there were more. Our trail went in between them. "They’re just cows,” we thought as we took more strides. 

Then the bull on our left started pawing the ground and lowered his horns. We stopped cold in our tracks. Brian and I talked low and slow remembering Jessica, 10 years old, had on a bright magenta jacket. Bulls hate red, right? We wondered if the pink was close enough to red to trigger this bull. His hoof pounded the snow again and he tossed his head from side to side. Ladies, I’m thinking – and I can’t make this stuff up – how in the world were we going to get out of this!? How can I protect my sweet little daughter? We told Jessica to slip off her jacket and turn it wrong-side-out so the grey would show. Then slowly we moved toward her and edged her behind the trunk of a larger Ponderosa tree nearby. The bull was not happy, head still down – we waited, still and quiet. The world around us was silent and yet the air seemed to shake with the unknown anticipation of a 2000-something pound bull with long horns. After what seemed an eternity, he released is cool-eyed grip on us and looked down at the exposed tuft of grass below him and nibbled on it. We watched and waited more, then slowly moved; he watched us, but let us pass.

Recently, I looked up, “why do bulls hate red?” Here’s what I found: “Actually, they don’t. Bulls, along with all other cattle, are color-blind to red. Thus, the bull is likely irritated not by the color, but by the movement.” (

Ladies, we have been in 1 & 2 Kings with Pastor Josh. Have you noticed the reaction of King Ahab, his bull-headed response to the movement of God through Elijah? His death on the battlefield with one arrow in just the right place. And then Ahaziah, following after his father Ahab, also not recognizing the hand of God or yield.

My question is: Do you see His hand and recognize His care for you? Can our lives be different when we do?

Love Well • Change Lives • Through Christ