Friends,
Since late November, we’ve been meeting the moment of unexpected and extensive building repairs. I’m proud of how we’ve held together and faced the challenge with ingenuity, calm, and solidarity.

Here’s to meeting the moment  and “being where we are” together in 2024. This reflection below speaks to the moment and is as relevant in January, 2024 as it was years ago when I wrote it.

Happy New Year,
Rev. Robin
 
Be Where You Are 
There is a chapel on the mountain in Stowe, Vermont. It rises organically out of the side of a ski slope called “Toll Road” like a Tyrolian confection – stone upon rough-hewn stone, glistening with snow on a sunny “bluebird” day. There is a chapel on the mountain and as we come upon it, I exclaim, delighted and surprised, “Look at that!” My adolescent daughter, Michaela, glares at me as if to say, “Forget about it, Mom! You may be a minister, but church on Sunday is more than enough for me!”

“Toll Road” is one of those easy winders that meanders down the outer rim of the mountain. Michaela has not skied for at least three years now, so we keep to this non-stressful route for much of the day. I remind her what she learned years ago at Nashoba Valley Ski Area — “Pizza” (snow plow), “French fries” (parallel turn). As we ski down together, I carve in the snow behind her, repeating my own litany silently in my head: “Weight forward, keep your eyes on the fall line, hands out front, finish your turns, crunch your edges, be where you are.”

The rest of our group is snowboarding and skiing on more challenging terrain. Michaela looks at my face searchingly and apologizes on the chair lift for “holding me back and ruining my fun.” I reassure her that I want to be with her, and I mean it.

There is a chapel on the mountain. The sky is so exquisitely blue that I must remind myself to keep my eyes and my mind on the task of skiing. We pass the chapel again and I notice a pair of skis and poles stuck in the snow. Someone has stopped there and I feel a burst of emotion and wonder as I glide by. I’m curious about the person inside the chapel by the side of a ski run. Are they praying for safe passage? Counting their blessings to be here on the mountain today – healthy and wealthy enough to enjoy it? Are they experiencing a dissonance between the joy of skiing and an inner sorrow? Maybe they are simply seeking a peaceful spot to reflect?

I watch my daughter skiing in front of me, more sturdy with each run. Her mouth is moving: “Pizza, French fries; Pizza, French fries.” I turn my mind away from imagining the folks in the chapel or envisioning the Lodge at the bottom of the slope with its warming fire and hot chocolate. My heart opens amidst this cathedral of snow and sun and sky and pines. I hear my own voice in the brisk air, reciting my mountain litany, my portable chapel prayer: “Be where you are, be where you are, be where you are.”