Skiing at Mammoth's little sister, June Mountain

Like That’s Really Going to Help

My stomach churned as I looked down the steep, forbidding ski slope at June Mountain, a popular resort located on the eastern side of California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. I cried out to my friend Mark, “This run is too hard for me!”

Mark, a proficient skier, had zipped halfway down the intermediate-level run and was waiting for me to come down. “Try traversing it, Gail.”

Maybe I projected myself as an expert skier. I hadn’t told him I had skied only twice before.

I drove up to the ski resort with Mark. This was during my single days when I went skiing with a group of church friends.

What a day! Everything went wrong from the get-go. I rented my skis and boots from a local shop, but they were out of poles. We went to the ski lodge to rent them and waited nearly an hour in seemingly endless checkout lines. The lengthy delay annoyed Mark as it cut into our ski time on this picture-perfect, blue-sky day.

Now, this! Gravity tugged at me as I leaned over the edge. When I saw there was no easy way down, I gingerly traversed the run. My heart thumped as I swerved into a half-moon turn, lost my balance, and plunged into the snow.

With the aid of the poles, I pushed myself upright.

Turning toward the fall line, I started down again, but soon I crossed my ski tips and took another spill.

Mark sidestepped up the hill to help me. When I stood to my feet, I noticed blurred vision out of my left eye. “Nnnoo! My contact lens fell out!”

We squatted down and searched for the contact lens with our gloved hands. The glistening white snow and contrasting shadows cast by the sunlight over the bumps and ruts made it difficult to spot the small piece of plastic. To make matters worse, snow kicked up by other skiers flew all around the area.

“I think the lens dropped near my left ski.” I moved the ski away, but it wasn’t there. We continued searching, but to no avail. “Can we pray about this?” I asked.

Mark rolled his eyes as if he was about to say, “Like that’s really going to help.”

I prayed aloud anyway. “Dear Jesus, we commit the contact lens to you. Please help us find it.”

Immediately after praying, Mark fixed his gaze straight down near his ski. “I found the lens!” he said. He leaned over to pick it up and handed it to me with a dumbfounded smile. He had to admit—God answered my prayer.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. (Matthew 7:7)

~ Gail Kaku

Bob and I are authors of Popcorn Miracles and Kernels of Hope. Check out the trailers.

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