Thursday, January 26, 2012

A {not at all funny} Thing Happened on the Way Up the Chairlift ...

I guarantee you do not want to ever hear this from the chairlift attendant:

"Just drop him."

Not "it" nor the impersonal "them."  

HIM, people.

Him = Levi.  My baby boy.

So now that I've got your attention, here's the story:

A few warm up runs into our ski lesson today, our instructor took us to the high-speed quad so the boys (all about 6 years old) could practice on a longer, slightly more challenging green run.  No big deal, really, because all the boys had gone down this run after lessons last week.

Little boys skiing back and forth behind their teacher are so adorable.  Like a mama duck and her ducklings:

After completing this run, we waiting in line to load on a new-to-us lift. Little did I know that the chair was slightly higher than the other 2-person chairlifts we've gotten on!!!!!!!

So, as I've done before, I talk Levi through getting on the lift: reach back, scoot back, are you on?
But with the slight height change, Levi couldn't get his little bottom on the chair!  I tried grabbing onto his coat (front and back) to help scoot him on, but the chair seemed to really gain height fast, and I couldn't get his bum up!!!


So, I'm holding on to his coat, and he's dangling totally off the chair!!!!! And we are getting higher in the sky!

"Just drop him!"

Yea, just what a mama doesn't want to hear.

But in that second-that-feels-like-an-hour I realize that if I don't drop him now, there is no way on God's green earth that I can help him; let alone, if I lose my grip and drop him when we're higher, he's going to fall farther.

"Levi, I've got to drop you!"

So I did.  

When I re-told the story to Dave, I guessed that he fell about 6 feet.  This seems high, but as I think about it some more, He's about 3 1/2 feet tall, so his legs only fell a couple feet before he landed in the slightly crusty snow.  At that point, the attendants stopped the chair and ran up to help him.

I hated, hated, hated that I could do nothing for him but sit on the chair above him and watch the attendant and his ski instructor help him. And then I could do nothing until we got to the top of the lift.

Fortunately {Thank you Lord Jesus} this event in no way overshadowed the pure bliss and joy Levi feels as he floats down a mountain skis.  

Fortunately {Thank you Lord Jesus} Levi has regained his trust in my ability to help him get on a chairlift.  We skied the rest of the day event-free.

and fortunately {Thank you Lord Jesus} Levi is OK.  


1 comment:

Debra said...

Oh, Alane! Oh, oh, oh...

I cannot even begin to imagine.