you’re closer than you think

At Alta Ski Resort, when the lifts close for summer, the mountain opens for “uphill travel”—if you can hike it, you can ski it. So when Xander invited me after a string of tough days, I said yes. I rarely turn down an invitation from my kids, even when I’m not sure I’m up for it.

Forty-five minutes into the climb, my legs burned, my breath came short, and doubt crept in. A weeks worth of sleepless nights, skipped meals, annd morning workouts caught up with me. The world spun. I faltered.

Xander turned around and caught sight of my struggle. “I know you can’t see it,” he said, “but just up ahead we turn onto a cattrack. From there, it’s an easy walk. You don’t want to give up now—you’re so close.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him. Xander is known for his excessive energy and the excess of fun he brings to our lives. What feels “close” to him might be 50 more minutes of hiking for the rest of us mortals.

“Eat this,” he ordered, pressing a granola bar into my shaking hands.

“I can’t eat,” I protested, nausea rising.

“Yes, you can.” The roles reversed—my child became the parent. “One bite. You’ll feel better.”

With that, he turned and continued upward, trusting I’d follow.

I forced down a bite. Chewed through shallow breaths. Placed one foot in front of the other.

I couldn’t see it. Only white oblivion and the mountain looming ahead. 

A few minutes later—just as he’d promised—the steep slope gave way to a gentle cat track, winding smoothly toward the summit.

The descent was pure joy—skis whispering through sunset-gilded snow. And as we carved downhill, I thought of all life’s invisible paths – the problems where no solution glimmers, the pain that blots out hope. How often have I quit, only to later see the road was just beyond my sightline?

Elder Holland’s words came to mind: “Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it— It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”

Some days, my faith feels like a shout from the mountaintops. Other days, it’s a whisper under the weight of the climb. But it’s always a yes—one step, then another, trusting the path will appear when I need it most.

Keep going. Don’t give up good ground. You’re closer than you think.