When my ten-year-old Mary, made the goal to climb Mt. Timpanogus this summer– a trek of 15-18 miles– I promised I’d stay with her every step of the way.

On practice hikes with her brothers, I’d noticed Mary hiked slowly but steadily until she was rushed. When someone insisted she walk a little faster or denied her a rest, she froze, became insecure in her abilities and more than once, turned around and went home before reaching the top.

So, on the day of the hike, we let everyone else go ahead. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone rush her: she could stop in the middle of the trail anytime she wanted, eat and drink when she needed.

The trek took nearly thirteen hours. I told stories, we sang song and made up silly games. But I let Mary be herself. She plunked down for a rest in the most unlikely places, named every rock and fed chipmunks along the way. Sure, she complained a  bit. But I told her over and over, “You’re going to make it.”

And she did.

I think Mary’s climb is a parable for every mountain in life– if we let people go at their own pace, stop when needed, fill their needs and lovingly walk with them, they will reach the summit. I think it’s an apt parable for raising children, for education, for missionaries, for any kind of healing and most especially for grief.

When have you benefited from being able to move at your own pace?

Do you let others move at their own pace?