In nomine patris et matris et sancte vehiculum

 

I am not a superstitious, nor an excessive believer in the divine,  however my last experience with our savior, I would only describe as holy. 

Reflecting on our last ski trip to the Austrian Alps, despite our accommodation being relatively close to the ski center, we opted to drive due to my aversion to shuttle services. Anticipating the trip with my usual anxiousness, I meticulously packed our gear the evening before and ensured all necessities were in order. The weather forecast wasn't a concern for me; after all, we were prepared for the cold in the snowy mountains. Little did I know, this nonchalant attitude would come back to haunt us. 

Early morning, all prepared, we got in the car and started driving. Considering this was my first time in this ski center, I was hesitant about overcrowded parking lots and having to drag the skies for a distance. I hate that, it have happened to me several times and it's an agony to say the least, cranky children don't help the situation either.

If you have ever seen a ski map, you know that ski maps do not follow any physics or logic, altitude makes no sense, they are not drawn to scale, mountains are intentionally deformed to fit the paper flyer, nothing makes sense. We reached the first parking, I saw the map and reasoned, it was adequate, taking into consideration that the base station of one of the gondolas was few steps away. 

Ascending halfway in the gondola, my heart sank as I noticed several chairlifts idle due to high winds. Further more I was suspecting that it's a one way trip, because the current gondola was traversing over a mini peak, ergo once we start skiing there was no way back. I noticed that we were suppose to use another chair lift to get higher, and then ski down beside the first gondola to the parking lot. Yea, the upper chair lift: out of order. At that point I knew we were stuck, unless they start the upper lift by the end of the day.

Throughout the day, frustration mounted as the upper chairlifts remained dormant. Desperate several inquiries among fellow skiers, only yielded vaguely the same answer: "There should be a shuttle somewhere that circles all the parking lots".

After enduring four hours of subpar skiing, exacerbated by the onset of rain, we reluctantly decided to call it a day. As we huddled on a rain-soaked bench, the weather was getting warmer further worsening the precipitation, inside and out. We waited for the shuttle for 40 minutes, full gear on, I was miserable, wet and excessively angry. How could the ski center close a chairlift without any consideration for the skiers. Unbelievable! 

Amidst my tirade of curses, my children's resilience and composure stood out, a source of quiet pride amidst the chaos. When the shuttle finally materialized, it felt like a lifeline amidst the tempest, ferrying us to the sanctuary of our car.

I can not explain the feeling of relieve I felt when I finally saw our car, like it was a life raft in the middle of the sea. It lifted the weight of the skies of my back, it gave use warmth and most importantly the feeling of unity and safety. With the risk of sounding ridiculous, I will say it: "I felt bestowed with the importance of family and having safe haven among us, even if it's our own car". 

In hindsight, what began as a ski trip marred by setbacks evolved into a spiritual revelation—an affirmation of the sanctity of family bonds and the solace found in moments of adversity.