looking for a hill.

Dear Ian,

As a little girl, I grew up at the bottom of a small hill. It never really felt {small}, but as I look at it while driving by now, it's barely a speed bump.  {not really} ... but it's definitely not a "hill" that one would dream of sledding on.

My sister and I did sled on it though - every time we had a chance - when there just enough snow that the pavement was gone, we were there.  It was perfect.  Not too steep, but not too flat.  Just the way I find myself hoping life to be. {not very realistic - I know}

The things I remember most quickly about the hill aren't all the successful runs on our sleds, but the crashes.  The fat lip, concussion, "there probably wasn't enough snow" type of crashes.  The kind that almost make it so you don't ever want to sled again for fear of getting hurt.

I've lived a lot of my life thinking about how things have bruised or injured me ... which is often keeping me from doing some of the most amazing things.  And just when I get enough courage to give it a go again, something happens.  I flip on a tube, I about knock myself out, I crash with other people, and I collide with unmovable objects ... I live. Yes, I live. Life is supposed to be about crashes sometimes.

I never really thought about sledding as something to love, but here we are, trying to give our own children a taste of how good, how necessary, how important it is to try things that might even scare you a bit.  Trying things, stepping on, holding on, with a trust that the person who told you to try it, the person who told you it would be ok, the person that's cheering for you  ... that they really know what they're talking about.

There wasn't really a hill on Christmas day, but there was snow.  Enough snow that we had the opportunity to get the boys on their sleds, where they could be pushed into flakes of winter with gusto and enthusiasm.  I watched from behind my camera with a smile - because I like "flat" ... I like "predictable" ... I like that even though they weren't "sailing" down a hill, they were still trying.  And "trying" is half of succeeding.

Thank you for embracing the hills in life with me, and for teaching our boys that life isn't always flat.  Thank you for being willing to ride with them down crazy hills that may lead to nowhere, even when you know you might eat a mouthful of powdery snow.  Thank you for being "whimsy" when you need to be most.

I love you for living this life with me.  This life that isn't always full of snow, but when it is, dancing with me in it.  This life that isn't always in focus, but brings so much joy.  This life that goes with every Hallmark card in America.  "Life is a special occasion" is being lived by us.

I think our boys will remember this snowy wonderland for a very long time.  Not because of the amazing hills or fabulous weather, but for the fact you tried so very hard to find them a hill on the flattest of roads.  You pushed them, cheered them, and rode right with them.  That is what life is about.  Not the fluff, not the picture-perfect, not the ski resort, but so much more about finding out how to live well right where we're at.

Loving you for your sometimes hidden "whimsy" ~

Lindsay