Coming Down the Pandemic Mountain

Kimberly Lynch reflects on how the struggle of the last year should be viewed as a triumph of resilience and strength.

The view of the mountain peak, the clear blue sky … the morning of a long hike at the trailhead always starts with such ambitious and optimistic energy. The scent of my freshly laundered shorts and fleece pullover masks the faint scent of pine. My hair is pulled back into a smooth ponytail. My pack weighs heavy with food and water for the day. My clean boots are tightly laced all the way up, complete with a neatly tied double bow.

But by the end of the day, the tidy hiker-chick look evidences the reality of a strenuous hike. My face is smeared with dirt and sweat, and my ponytail now has stray windblown hairs wildly framing my face. My calves are streaked with mud from the boots that brushed past every time I stepped up over a rock or root along the steep trail. My pack is light now, but my stomach grumbles and my muscles ache.

Oh, there had been some tough moments. Moments when I wanted to quit. When I questioned why I had wanted to climb this mountain in the first place. But there had been some life-giving moments too, moments that I would’ve missed if I had skipped the hike altogether.

The scent of the pine and the wildflowers. The shrill cry of the white throated sparrow. The doe and her fawn crossing the trail. The glorious view of a lookout halfway up. The warmth of the granite rock slabs in the sunshine. And of course, the sweet victory at the top…the taste of the chocolate bar that I had saved only for that moment.

Instead of turning around and cursing the mountain for the difficult journey, I instead smile in gratitude for the empowering lessons learned from the looming giant:

I CAN do hard things.

I CAN rise to the challenge.

trailhead sign

If the events of 2020 were a mountain, we’d be coming into view of the trailhead parking lot right about now. And just like parents often carry the heavy packs for their children on a hike, parents carried so much of the burden this year. Now our backpacks are depleted of metaphorical food and water, our muscles ache, and we are eager to take off those heavy hiking boots as we cross the finish line of a brutal school year. We bear the signs of a stressful year of uncertainty, constantly changing rules, and most notably, collective fear. But instead of cursing the events or channeling our energy to blame, perhaps we could pause and give ourselves some credit for our creativity and resilience:

I CAN do hard things.

I CAN support my family with patience and warmth despite the circumstances.

I CAN remain disciplined in healthy habits despite disturbing current events.

I CAN keep my cool even when I am feeling overwhelmed.

I CAN rely on my creativity to help my kids, my husband, and myself during an international crisis.

I CAN connect with my loved ones even if it is not face-to-face.

I CAN create meaningful family celebrations even if the usual traditions are not allowed.

I CAN grow closer to God even when my usual routines are canceled.

I CAN feel fulfilled even when my busy schedule finds itself empty.

Click to tweet:
Instead of cursing the events or channeling our energy to blame, perhaps we could pause and give ourselves some credit for our creativity and resilience. #catholicmom

Hopefully we will not experience another pandemic during our lifetime, but there inevitably will be more rocky paths to navigate and different hardships to endure, whether they affect us collectively or personally. When the time comes to embark on a new metaphorical hike, we can stand at the trailhead muttering words of anger and bitterness, or we can choose growth.

Because mountains create great athletes. The aching muscles demonstrate strength, the empty backpack demonstrates the skills we utilized to keep everyone (somewhat) sane. The muddy face demonstrates our willingness to work hard and not give up. Spuren der Arbeit … marks of work ... is the fitting German phrase to describe the beauty of one who bears the evidence of struggle.

One who remains standing tall nonetheless.

Jagged or rounded, gently rolling or steep and rocky … every mountain holds the same opportunity: there is beauty to be had, strength to be gained, and the peace to be claimed.

woman sitting on mountaintop