Decisions made...

I can think of fewer times in my life when I have been more insecure than I have been as a mom. Any mom who tells you that she is 100% confident of every decision she makes for her child is well...a liar. Always seeking advice, or looking for affirmation, it is always a relief to have someone look you in the eyes and say, "You are a great mom, you absolutely made the right decision." Everyday you are bombarded with new decisions to make. Sometimes they are easy, "No, you can't have a bazooka for your birthday." Sometimes, they are hard. Sometimes, we don't realize that our answer could change their lives forever, and sometimes, we make an easy answer way too difficult.
I believe that I fell into the later category when presented with the idea of putting Ocean into ski lessons. Honestly, I have second-guessed every decision I have ever made for him. And, as he gets older, I find I am down on my knees even more, seeking God's wisdom for our little boy.
His first lesson was yesterday. For the entire week prior, as the day approached, I found myself getting more and more nervous. Were we pushing him too far, would this traumatize him into never skiing again, was he strong enough, would he get hurt, what if he needed me and I wasn't there, were his instructors properly trained to work with a child like Ocean,...and the questions went on and on.
A few days before the class, I decided, at the last minute, to take a pottery class. There are no coincidences with God, so by His guidance, the girl next to me was a skiing instructor at Sunshine, and not just any instructor, she was going to be Ocean's!! She and her boyfriend ran the adaptive program at the hill. She was able to answer lots of my questions, and listened patiently while I talked through many of my fears.
I did feel better, but when I woke up yesterday morning, my stomach felt like it did the morning of my first piano recital.
It was a beautiful day, a gift from my great God. We had to take a shuttle from the parking lot to the hill, and I think every person on that bus had to smile at me announcing to everyone that it was Ocean's first ski lesson. The two snowboarders who were blessed enough to ride up the gondola with us just smiled at Ocean while I told them all about his first day. I was feeling good about this whole idea. We made it to the meeting place, and I was thrilled to see Vic, his instructor. She informed me that one of the other students was ill, so Ocean would have two instructors, wow, this was great! She also told me that it would be best if I stayed in the lodge, so that I wouldn't be a distraction. ok, no problem. But, as I watched Ocean walk away with those two girls, I felt panicky again.
I found a nice spot on the deck, conveniently overlooking the magic carpet area where Ocean was. I was still quite a distance away. My panicky feelings got worse, and tears started to roll down my cheeks. This was too much for him, he wasn't ready for this. I gripped the log railings and oblivious to all of the happy people around me, I begged God to empower my little boy.
When I saw one of his instructors begin to snap on his skis, it was all I could do to keep myself from running hysterically down the hill screaming, "he's not ready!" Instead, I decided the skier sitting next to me, quietly enjoying his lunch, needed to know about my son's first ski lesson. He patiently followed my finger while I pointed out the little boy in blue. "He is cute, he is doing great, " he says.
Really!? I released my grip on the railing and realized, yeah, he was doing great.
I was all smiles for the next hour as I watch Ocean slide down that little slope on his skis. He did great, and he was super cute. I watched him throw his arms in the air, and I could hear him laughing. That was all the confirmation I needed that I had indeed made the right decision.