That Man on the Mountain May Have Been an Angel
Lessons of Light Issue #15
This is a story about a man I met on a mountain who may have been an angel.
This past weekend I went skiing with my family. Although it’s been a while since we’ve skied together, whenever we get the chance, I’m always reminded about why I love it so much.
I grew up skiing with my mom, dad, and sister. I learned how to ski at a young age – maybe around kindergarten or earlier actually, I can’t exactly remember. But I do remember my dad teaching us how to ski.
He would ski backwards down the mountain with his legs in an open V formation, and then we would ski in his direction, and he would catch us.
Since we went year after year, it wasn’t too long that he didn’t have to catch us any more. We caught up with him. (Although I think he was probably holding back and letting us ski far and fast ahead of him – he was such a graceful and beautiful skier.)
We would ski down to the chair lift from our place, sometimes Dad would sneak a little Bota bag with wine, we would stop for hot chocolate on the slope, and when we were back in our place, Mom would play John Denver and The Carpenters on an 8-track while we all napped. It was all very 70s, and it was perfect.
These were sweet times, and I think some of my dad’s most favorite memories. He loved mountains, trees, and all of nature. But mostly, he loved being with us.
My Name is Jim
On my first day skiing this past weekend, my dad was at the forefront of my thoughts. I kept thinking, “Oh my goodness, Dad would love this view.” Or “Dad would love to be skiing down this trail right now.”
I found myself saying, “Hi Dad! Let’s ski together!”
I took a run alone with Piper that was slightly more on the challenging side, and I probably made a mistake encouraging us to go on those trails. She is still getting her ski legs on (we haven’t skied in years), and it was a lot. Also, I could see no end in sight — like, where was the bottom of the mountain?! It kept going and going.
At one point, she skied ahead while I watched her, and then I skied down to her. She stopped to take a break, so I stopped at a spot just up the mountain from her.
Suddenly an older man, maybe around 75 or so, skied up next to me. He had a very friendly face and was decked out in somewhat old-school ski gear. He was very cute with a big smile.
He said, “I see you using your poles!” I laughed and said, “Yes! I use my poles when I ski. My dad taught me how to ski.”
He said no one uses their poles anymore, and then told me how he loves to use his poles to help him turn and move, and then showed me some examples. He would ski down a bit from me, using his poles and talking back to me about his moves. I would laugh and ski to him, and then he would talk a bit more. This all took place within probably five minutes, and it was very sweet.
Then he put out a fist to do a fist bump and he said, “What’s your name?”
I bumped his fist. “Laurie. What’s yours?”
“Jim,” he said.
“Jim! That’s my dad’s name,” I told him. “I've been thinking about him so much since I’ve been on this mountain.”
He asked, “Is he still with us?”
“No, he passed away 15 years ago,” I said. “But he’s on my mind a lot today!”
We said a few more words, and off he went as we shouted to each other:
“Bye Laurie!” “Bye, Jim!”
I skied to Piper and we continued to make our way down.
About 20 or so minutes later, I was standing at a new spot further down the mountain as we took a break, and next thing I knew, Jim skied up to me again and stopped.
He said, “I want to give you a hug. Thinking about you and your dad, and how you’re thinking about him.” He went on to say, “My uncle taught me how to ski and I still think about it. And I taught my sons to ski.” He talked about how people make an impact on us.
We hugged. And then off he went. I saw him stop further down the mountain to help someone who was having a hard time going down a steep part.
I thought to myself, “Well, now that was sweet.” And unexpected. I was amazed he found me again on a mountain full of people.
And as I continued skiing, I found myself wondering, could that have been an angel?
Was that a connection with my dad, or a message from him – like, my dad wanted me to know he was with me, too?
I have to tell you, it certainly felt that way.
Every Memory is a Legacy in the Making
I think as I’m writing this, what’s coming to mind for me is the importance of how we make memories with people.
And that how we are in relationship with one another is how we are writing our legacies.
I believe my dad would be happy to know that when I see the breathtaking beauty of mountains, I think of him.
I believe my dad would be happy to know that when I’m skiing down a mountain with the wind at my face, I think of him.
I believe it would make Jim Gunning happy to know that when I’m doing something joyful like skiing with my family, I think of him.
That’s part of his legacy. This is how his daughter remembers him.
I want this, too.
This is why I will stay on a mountain with my daughter, encouraging her to take her time and rest and breathe without forcing her, because I want her to someday hopefully think of me too when she is skiing with her family and remembers the times I stayed by her side. Because that’s the memory I want to make for her.
This is the legacy I am writing.
P.S. How about you? What legacy are you writing with the people you love?
For anyone thinking about this (your legacy), how you are showing up in your life, and how you want to connect with what brings you joy— join me in my course called You Should Totally Do It. Starting on Thursday, May 1st, we begin in a small intimate community. Schedule a call with me to learn more and see if it’s right for you. Just a 30 minute complimentary call! I would love to connect!
In this episode, we explore salvation. This chapter is about coming home to yourself—a journey of inner transformation, where salvation isn’t something outside of you, but a return to truth, faith, and love within. Some days you'll feel deeply connected, others unsure—and that’s part of being human. Through light and shadow, remembering and forgetting, there is always a way back. This is an awakening to your divinity, a shedding of fear and illusion, and a reminder that peace, freedom, and love aren’t things to chase—they’re already within you, waiting to rise.
Angel Jim! ✨✨✨😇