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Welcome to the Dorie's Stories {devotional} Blog!
Today while my friends on the East coast are shoveling through a snowy tundra, I pulled out my open-toed shoes in Texas. Don't worry, though, because by the time this article posts, we will have our own bout with icy precipitation and frozen flakes.
The thing about snow in Texas is that we don't have the snow stuff.
There are no salt trucks.
There are no plows.
We don't even have windshield scrapers.
Growing up in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, we always were ready. We didn't even need to wait for the city to clear the roads -- several of our neighbors would fight to get the chance to use their plow-attachment for their trucks on our neighborhood blocks!
Of course, as kids we didn't always appreciate the readiness. I can remember times when we would have two feet of snowfall and my sisters and I would sit and listen by the radio for our school closure. We felt lucky to get a two-hour delay.
I'm not a very big snow person...that might be because I can't do any of the snow sports. That is my segue into this week's devotional story about my one and only time I went skiing.
From my book, Hope Looks Good on You!: a Comedian's Joy-inducing Daily Devotional for Women
. . .
Chapter 5: Ski Patrol
"You don't need skiing lessons." Those are words that should not be placed consecutively in the same sentence. But alas, my newlywed husband uttered them confidently to his new bride.
After being thrust onto a pile of lumber tied into a pulley system that they call a “ski lift,” I dangled high above the snow drifts and trees below.
As I reached the mountainous peak, I survived getting off the ski lift without being struck by the next passengers...which is a feat by itself.
The momentum I had gained getting off of the lift transferred into forward motion, leading to my immediate descent down the slope.
I began to pick up speed as I got into the only ski position I had seen on the Winter Olympics: knees bent, ski poles pointed backwards, head down.
I was going quite fast and started to believe that I might be a natural or some sort of speed-skier prodigy.
It was also at this point in time that I realized I didn't know how to slow down...or steer. I began flailing my arms and yelling to warn upcoming skiers.
Men, women, and children in my path were diving to safety. At that moment, I recalled the only instruction my husband had felt was important to note: how to stop. I seemed to remember him saying something about the skis...like I was supposed to cross them.
It didn't make sense from an engineering perspective, but from an I-need-to-stop- before-I-fall-off-a-cliff perspective, I was willing to try it.
So I did it. I crossed my skis.
My husband told me later that it looked like: head, legs, head, legs, head, legs...then a yard sale of various ski equipment strewn down the slope.
I knocked myself out and came to with my husband standing over me asking, "Are you ready to try again?"
My response: "get ski patrol."
I was carted off that bunny slope in a toboggan sled.
So, maybe I needed a bit of instruction — from an actual instructor. In life, sometimes we can feel a bit in over our heads, flailing down a slope at breakneck speed. This is when we might look ahead and start to worry.
I like how it says in the book of Matthew that we shouldn’t worry about tomorrow because we have enough worries for today.
“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries.
Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Matthew 6:34 NLT
He knew we are not in ‘tomorrow’ yet...only God is in tomorrow. It’s comforting to think that God already has been to tomorrow — we aren’t headed there alone or to somewhere He hasn’t already been.
One of my favorite quotes is by Corrie Ten Boom, the Holocaust survivor whose family helped many Jews escape the Nazis by hiding them in their home.
Her book, The Hiding Place, tells her story and how she was able to find hope in God even after her family was betrayed and was imprisoned in a concentration camp during the Holocaust.
She later shared some of her thoughts and beliefs in a devotional book called, Clippings from My Notebook, where she shares this powerful insight about worry:
“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.”
— Corrie Ten Boom
If Corrie Ten Boom can live through the horrors of the Holocaust and pen those words, it makes them all that much more compelling.
Worry is not productive. It produces nothing and it can’t be saved up and redeemed for courage later. I heard it also said that worrying about a circumstance is like living through the difficult experience twice.
We cannot worry ahead of a situation and expect to make progress.
We need to take one day at a time...one bunny slope after one bunny slope. Also, spend time listening to our Instructor — God might know a thing or two about these slopes that we need to maneuver through!
And...possibly learn how to stop. (Stop worrying, that is!)
Reflect & Journal:
What worries make you feel like you are careening down the hill with no control? Take a few minutes to make a list and ask for the Instructor’s help in navigating through them without the worry. . . .
I hope you enjoyed the devotional excerpt! Feel free to share it with someone you think would enjoy a devotional story involving snow sports and a toboggan ride to the ski hospital and how to avoid worry in the middle of life's slopes.
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With hope & joy, Dorie Mclemore
P.s. next time, I’m planning to post another brand new devotional story I wrote for my next (currently unnamed) book! Make sure you are subscribed to get the notification in your inbox! P.p.s. If you want a copy of the full devotional book, Hope Looks Good on You!, use the button below!