Knowing My Limits
Sugar Mountain, North Carolina- easily one of my favorite places! We rent the same house year after year. It feels familiar in the best way. I love skiing. I love the mountains. I love the rhythm of coming back somewhere that holds memories for our family.
This year we drove in under 60° skies. Bare ground. No snow to speak of. But the weather app kept telling me not to panic. Snow was coming.
And it came.
Not gently. Not romantically. Not the soft Hallmark version.
It came in 26 mph winds and ten inches of snow that fell sideways. It swirled. It blasted. It howled.
At first, we thought it was pretty. Coming from South Carolina, where snow is rare, it felt magical. We had planned to hike the Glen Burney Falls trail and visit Appalachian State that morning. While hiking there was a gentle dusting... Flurries. It was really quite magical. But by the time we were off the trail and eating lunch, it wasn’t magical anymore.
It was cold. Windy. Sharp.
App State turned into a drive-by window tour — my first quiet moment of knowing my limits on this trip. We went back to the house and settled in under a winter storm warning that was no longer theoretical. 
The temperature dropped into the teens. The wind chill was even lower. The power went out on the whole mountain by 10 p.m. The wind was powerful and the snow just kept coming. As the house seemed to have a thing or two of its own to say about the storm, we laughed and chatted and listened to the creaking and cracking off the log cabin with every gust and we got cozy with only the fireplace flickering. Eventually we all turned in, trusting the storm to do what storms do.
Power came back. The morning sun hit fresh bright white snow.
And skiing — which is really what we came for — was waiting.
The first day on the mountain was miserable.
Snow blowers blasting your face.
Wind so constant you couldn’t catch your breath. Frostbite warnings at the chairlifts and actual snow still falling.
No one said it out loud at first, but by mid-afternoon we were done. Cold. Tired and thinking, "Not for me."
But the evening session looked better and after dinner energy stirred us to brave the cold. Winds had died down. Still freezing — but manageable. Four of us geared up and made the second outing to the slopes.
My brother and I thought we were taking a short blue run. But not all the lifts were running, and we ended up with the summit lift as our only option.
About twenty yards off the lift, we were right back in the blizzard. A blistering wind rocked the lift chair and there was a moment of fret that we had made a poor decision.
He looked at me and said, “This looks like a nightmare." Somehow, it turned into the best run of the night, but also our last.
The next day, the sun returned and the storm was officially over.
20° felt warm. No wind. Perfect snow. Every slope is open. Including the black diamonds. I was faced with another opportunity to choose.
I stood there thinking, Should I? Should I not? I’ve done them before. I can do them. I’m capable. But I chose no. Not because I can’t. Because I don’t need to. There is no prize waiting at the bottom. No trophy. No one keeping score. I am not trying to prove anything — to my kids, to my brother, my dad, to myself. As moments in my history flashed through my mind (mission trips where I pushed beyond reason, ski trips where I hit the black diamonds, homesteading where I test the very nature of my upbringing in the suburbs, pushing for Master's degree in a technology field, etc.) I have proven my ability to do the hard things. I have lived "no guts, no glory" days.... but this trip tested me in a different way. It tested my ability to be satisfied in what feels like less than 100%.
Knowing my limits isn’t weakness - it's peace in knowing myself, confidence in my abilities, and no need to prove anything to anyone simply because "I can."
"I have the right to do anything," you say, "but not everything is beneficial."
— 1 Corinthians 10:23
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven,"
— Ecclesiastes 3:1
"If you find honey, eat just enough, too much of it and you will vomit."
— Proverbs 25:16 (I like to keep it real with these gems that are tucked into scripture. lol)
I just spent a month teaching teens that influence is strongest when your identity is weak. And here I was in full adulthood this week learning this very same lesson. It landed differently on the mountain. Just because I can… doesn’t mean I should. Just because someone else is, doesn't mean I need to also. Just because there is more to do, doesn't mean I have to do it... and just because the slope is open… doesn’t mean it’s mine to take.
Resting in the confidence of what God called me to do - nothing more and nothing less is all that is necessary.
"But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you!"
— Matthew 6:13
Meanwhile, my youngest tackled his first black diamond. Watching him — steady, confident, joyful — felt like its own kind of summit moment.
I don’t need to ski the hardest run on the mountain. I already did the hard work years ago.
Teaching them. Investing year after year. Showing up. Creating the space for this hobby to become part of our family's routine.
Sometimes maturity looks like charging the summit. Sometimes it looks like recognizing and watching someone else take the summit! The best of Motherhood is being able to enjoy both! It isn't always about pushing yourself to the next level, it's often about pushing others to level up!
Lord, teach me to know my limits without shame and to approach opportunity with wisdom instead of pride. Help me recognize when to press forward and challenge myself and when to rest. Give me courage to do hard things — and peace to decline the unnecessary ones. Anchor my identity in Your view of me and help me not to seek any glory or fame from man. Amen.
Until next time, keep following the Plott, and I will be praying for us all. 💛
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