broke leg

I sit in front of a wall of windows watching a mountain wake up. On one side is a fire warming me. On the other, I feel the chill of the winter emanating through the glass.
We are in Colorado - the whole of us. Five McMurrays under one roof, and we are drinking up all Colorado has to offer in the form of snow. b ooooonnnnn
nmnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nbbbbbbnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

I typed the above paragraph early on the morning of December 30. Then my "n" key on my iPad keyboard began to stick. You would not believe how many words have “n” in them. 

So I abandoned the post for later. I skied out into a day that would change everything... for a while at least.

This was our fourth day in Colorado. We stayed at the base of Copper Mountain but explored several other venues.  This day we skied Breckenridge. By the end of the day, we confidently made our way to the new peak 6. 

Mentally I took snapshot after snapshot of our boys mastering a sport Matt and I love. Granted, Matthew sported a snowboard. But seeing them enjoy the Rocky Mountains  grew mountains of pleasure in our hearts and souls. Gladness energized my body and kept me going even when fatigue threatened to down me. 

Our boys are spread out at ages 22, 13, and 8. Few activities engage all of us at the depth skiing provides. Matt and I relish the mountains and skiing. Of course we had frustrations, bickering and split ski pants. We had fights over driving directions and what channel to watch. 

And so I began that post writing about how life holds both things: warmth and cold. Although I am remembering it through a haze of hydrocodone and leftover anesthesia; this is the muse on my mind as I skied out into a day that would wreck my knee, end my skiing and disrupt our happy scenes on the mountain. 

I cannot blame conditions or difficulty of the run on my fall. My right ski simply hit something and went wonky. My knee bore the brunt of my fall and I rolled down the mountain in a ball of ice and snow. I deferred a call to ski patrol and foolishly skied down the mountain. 

Matt and the boys finished up with a few more runs while I took stock in a warming hut. Deep down inside I knew I was done and my knee fried. Denial is a hard friend to deny, however; and I held on until the next morning hoping it was only a sprain. 

The night did not bring relief only pain and tears. At daybreak I said to Matt, “You will need to drop me off at the ER. If we leave now, you can make it back by the first run.” I did not want them to miss a minute of skiing. 

I will bring this to a close and continue the story on another day. You will want to hear how Matt broke his collar bone but before that rang in the new year at the laundromat washing linens until 2:00 a.m. 

One thing I am holding on to is this truth: Life has both pain and intense joy. One minute you can be walking on streets of gold, and the next they turn to ash. I have no bow to wrap things up. But I am holding to my faith and God’s promise never to forsake.