On the Mountain

Happy Easter!

This Easter feels different from all others. It's the first one without my parents. Ironically, it's the one where I feel most cared for.

At the beginning of Lent, like many other Catholics, I outlined a plan for the season. I was going to eat better, exercise more, pray consistently, and perhaps most unusually, I wanted to improve relationships and time management by avoiding multitasking.

I failed at all of these goals. But unlike in past years, I wasn't disappointed in myself.

I have a friend who once said that even though he has the best of intentions, he always picks Lenten resolutions that have a 100% fail rate. That way, he becomes more aware of his own humanity and need for God's grace and mercy.

God's grace and mercy are the reasons why I feel most cared for this Easter. From early morning Mass to jelly beans, egg hunts and the renewal of baptismal promises, Easter has always been a joyful occasion for me. There's something about the trumpet-shaped Easter lilies that make me want to praise God for His beautiful creation, but this year felt different. As I prepared for the Easter vigil, I didn't get the same surge of excitement I've had in past years. All I could think of was the loved ones I've lost this year. I spent more time than expected with tears in my eyes and questions in my heart about how it had to be this way, why so much of what I've embraced before felt so far away. Why did the future feel scary instead of joyful?

First time ever hiking Badger back in 2014

Badger during Lent 2026

I had been contemplating these things all 40 days of Lent, and they especially came to mind when I was trying to maintain one of my Lenten disciplines: getting exercise, which I accomplished by hiking Badger Mountain. It started out as a group effort, with a handful of friends who shivered with me on the way up in early February. By March, I had some solo hikes. And maybe that was a good thing because hiking alone helped me with a lot of those questions that were swimming around in my brain. As I ascended, there were hard parts and more manageable sections where the land levels off. The hard parts were more rewarding, of course, but the easy parts where I was able to catch my breath were necessary, too. That's my spiritual life right now. It's not about working hard so I can earn a reward that's better the more effort I made. Sometimes it's about catching my breath.

Sometimes I think that I've downplayed how hard the past year has been for me. I wanted to so badly to be strong and to prove that I could conquer the most challenging obstacles without breaking a sweat. I wanted to be self-reliant and independent, and while it may have helped others, it didn't help me at all. I was hurting and I didn't want anyone to know it. I worked hard and pretended to love it, but I was in desperate need of help and healing. These were all things that came to me as I climbed Badger thinking I was so close to the top only to find that there was yet another steep switchback right ahead.

About halfway through Lent, one of my friends (who happens to be married to the one who says he picks a 100% fail rate for his Lenten practices) asked me if there were flowers on Badger Mountain yet. At the time, there were just a few, but since her first inquiry, I've started to see more and more desert blooms popping up on the mountains. If my friend hadn't asked me this, I would have missed them or dismissed them as weeds that would be discarded if they were in a backyard garden. I would be wondering how many more steps until I could enjoy the view from the top. Instead, I'm grateful that while I can keep my eyes on the top of the mountain, I can also catch my breath and enjoy the flowers along the way. Those flowers in the desert pop up in ways I never expect. Stopping to catch my breath on the way to the top is like taking in these beautiful reminders of God's grace and mercy.