I just had the most amazing opportunity to hike Stoos Ridge in Switzerland. It is a hike I have seen all over social media and the internet; a beautiful ridge hike overlooking blue lakes and the Alps as far as the eye can see. It was high on my bucket list and a no-brainer for this mother-teen trip to Switzerland I just led. The internet stated virtually no elevation gain, and the photos beckoned; it was a hike made in heaven (literally).
Reality was better than the photos, but the rose-colored posts and information on the internet left me with so many life lessons as I ultimately trudged up Stoos Ridge.
I think my mind opted to conjure life lessons instead of focusing deeply on the physical pain the hike was causing me.
The Stoos Ridge Hike was a beautiful word picture for life in so many ways. You look at it and expect little ups and downs. You see pictures of the path, casually trekking along the ridge. You see the smiles and the beauty, and many times that is how we look at life. We see the Instagram version of life and think our life should be that beautiful and have “no elevation gain”…
Stoos Ridge was much more than pretty views. There was even a point when I couldn’t even really enjoy the view because the pain was so much. What “no elevation gain” actually meant was that from start to finish, the elevation was basically the same, but “no elevation gain” did not account for all of the hairpin back-and-forth down one side of the ridge, and the mountain goat scrambles up the other side; more than once! That wasn’t in “the brochure.”
As I am “mountain-goating” up this huge mountain five kilometers farther than I thought the trail was supposed to be, I was focusing intently on the top. If I could just get to the top, I would be there; I wouldn’t have to take one more step up. Then I would get to the top, and it would be a false summit, and there was more to go. That happened more than once.
I was thinking about life and how so often, life handed me only what I could handle at the time. So many times I would walk through fires (or up steep hills), and in the middle of it, I was at my “max”—or so I thought. Then God would hand me another hill, and I got to the top. I think, both at Stoos Ridge and in life, if I had known in advance about all of the mountain-goating I was going to have to do, I would be too overwhelmed, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I would have been frozen by just being overwhelmed. But just like in life, God gave me what I could handle WITH HIS STRENGTH in the moment, Stoos Ridge gave me the climbs I could handle in the moment. There was more of a mountain to climb before I finished Stoos, and there have been more mountains to climb (and will still be more in my future). But I can handle them with God’s strength and grace, and with baby steps. I’m writing quickly and off-the-cuff, and I hope this makes sense, but to me, Stoos Ridge was such a beautiful picture of life and the beauty that comes at the top of a mountain, especially when you worked hard and tirelessly to get there.
I think the seven other people who hiked Stoos Ridge with me will understand this analogy, and I hope you do, too. Life is beautiful. God gives you what you can handle (WITH HIS STRENGTH; I don’t believe that God gives you what you can handle without Him), a little bit at a time. He grows you in ridges and valleys, and as you mountain goat up rocky mountains. He knows the beautiful picture you will be, and He wants you to enjoy the views!
Jamie Jo Johnson
Alumni Engagement Director
