How the small can climb mountains

This essay was first published on December 7, 2024, on The Daily BS.

It came to me on a cold, winter day. Christmas break had come and, with it, the snow.

Some years ago, to the great delight of the quartet, the town had created a sledding hill just up the road. Schoolchildren, thrilled to be free from their prisons (read ‘classrooms’) would flock to the slope en masse, ready to slide. Up, then down. Up, then down they’d trudge as cheeks turned red and fingertips froze in wet mittens.

On this day, we made the trek to the hill. Two at a time, we took turns sailing down to the bottom, lurching and swerving on the big, green sled. With shouts of, “Don’t you dare push,” and “I’m sitting in back because last time we wiped out,” we romped and played with abandon.

Standing at the top, I looked down. Mr. Schrock and The Cub had gone down together, and now they were on their way back. With one hand, Father pulled the sled. He was striding confidently up the hill. Beside him, a pair of short, little legs struggled on the slippery incline, scrambling to keep up. As I watched, Father reached down and, grasping a small, mittened hand, he helped his son climb the hill. Step, step, step.

It was then that I saw it. Love itself was climbing that hill. This is what came to me first, and then, on its heels, a second truth—that this was how the small could scale mountains. That the weak could rise, victorious. That even the young and the weary could ascend the steepest slope. One step at a time.

Years ago, I received a nugget from an older woman I encountered regularly in the coffee shop. She and her family are pillars in the community. They are people of strong faith who built a successful company, one account at a time. When a fire wiped out their store, they refused to despair or turn bitter. Instead, they simply set about the process of rebuilding and continued to serve their clients.

“The Lord’s Prayer says, ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’” she told me. “We receive what we need day by day. We don’t get next week’s provisions today.”

That was years ago, and I have feasted long on that wisdom. Watching how she lives, I know that she truly believes it. Her life is marked by peace and strength, and she receives these one day at a time.

This is how we climb mountains. For unlike the slopes, life seldom has ski lifts; no machinery to whisk us from the valley floor to the towering heights. From the bottom looking up, it can seem impossible and there, the spirit can quail.

In my own experience, I’ve found that summit gazing can do one of two things. It can utterly discourage me, or it can motivate me to keep climbing. When I find myself disheartened by the great distance between where I am and where I want to be, I can find relief by turning my focus to the step that I’m on. Looking down at my feet, I know that I can take one more step, and then the next. That much, I can do. And so, step by step, I advance.

Periodically, I lift my eyes to the top, to the goal. In the heat and burn and pain of the trip, calling to mind my “why” is helpful. I really am headed somewhere, and one day it will all be worth it. So, I keep climbing.

Along the path, there are setbacks, for such is life. Detours arise, and washouts in the road. Unexpected opposition springs from nowhere, and storms arise that halt my progress. Yet inch by inch, I make my way. Then one day, I look up, and my feet have crested the summit.

Up here, the view is breathtaking. From this place, I can see the path I’ve just conquered. Every twist has made me stronger than I was. Every turn has made me wiser. The journey has stripped away so many things I didn’t need and replaced them with what I did. I am grateful.

Looking back down the mountain to the valley below, I see again the former truth, that Love was climbing it with me. That Love, all along, was holding my hand. That never—not once—was I alone.

What is true for me is true for you, too. If you are overwhelmed by how far you still have to go, then drop your eyes to your feet and just take the next step. Do the next thing. This is not too much to do. Left, right, left, and then right, and you’re on your way.

If you’ve lost sight of your “why,” lift your eyes to the summit. See it? There it is. It’s important, your journey, and you have everything you need to complete it. Every grace, every virtue, strength divine, day by day.

I pray that one day, you shall know what I already know, that Love was climbing it with you. That Love was holding your hand. That you’ve never—not once—been alone.

All for love,

America’s small, caffeinated mom
Rhonda Schrock