On the August long weekend, my husband and I did two short hikes up a large hill near Merritt. The weather was hot, the path was steep, and the view of Nicola Lake was stunning. Not surprisingly, our journeys brought opportunities to reflect.

During our first hike, we stopped periodically. We trudged through the steep parts, paused to take pictures of plants, turned around to look at the water behind us, and remained focused on our destination – a Canadian flag at the top of the hill.

At the summit, we enjoyed a water break and the best view of our surroundings. We took photos and signed the flag with the sharpies provided. On the descent, we each stumbled. Uninjured, we laughed, gave thanks for untwisted knees and ankles, and made plans to climb the hill again.

The next day, climbing was regarded more as a workout than an experience. We had already seen the view and, knowing that the hill was challenging enough to raise our heart rates yet short enough to complete a round trip in less than an hour, we approached this second ascent as mere exercise.

As I pushed forward to get the steepest parts over with, I realized I was deliberately willing myself to avoid turning around. I wanted to get the work behind me quickly so that I could earn a break at the top.

My heart rate increased, my breathing became heavier, and I found myself realizing that I have often approached life in this way. I tend to strive to get my chores done so that I can relax “later,” rather than pacing myself and savouring precious moments each day.

Inevitably, life’s have-tos take longer than anticipated. Interruptions occur. Days fly by. Kids grow up. The to-do list never ends, but in pushing forward toward the end goal, I have often forgotten to look at the flowers. I have often missed the chance to turn around and enjoy the view. Ultimately, later doesn’t come; all we have in life is now.

Thinking about this hike as an analogy for life, I then made a point of turning around. I did not pause long enough for photos as on the day before, but I did breathe deeply and appreciate the scenery from several different viewpoints, etching pictures in my mind as I lived in the moment.

We reached our goal, and on the way down I became consumed in thought and overconfident in my ability. Consequently, I lost sight of the path as I approached a tree for what was the fourth time in two days. This is not a hidden path. It was not a dense forest or a dark, plant-covered trail, so I was quite confused. My husband was ahead of me, and when I called to him, he could not hear me.

I climbed back up the hill twice to see if I had missed a fork in the path. There was no fork – and no sight of my husband. I stood in one spot, thinking it would be easier for him to find me, but my mind began to race as I worried about cougars and bears finding me first.

I returned to the tree again and noticed that the road was within view. Just as I decided I would have to take a difficult and dangerous route down the steep, grassy hill, my husband appeared.

The path had been right in front of me, yet I could not see it … for the tree! Consumed in myself, I had lost my bearings, as my landmark became my barrier.

As the inspirational writer Alfred D’Souza said, “For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first ... At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.”

Hiking has reminded me that hard work is hollow and fruitless if I ignore life’s view. Stumbles occur, and I must laughingly dust off, giving thanks that I have overcome. Perceived “obstacles” grant new perspectives and opportunities for growth.

In life, I must remain focused on my true Leader, lest I become lost in my own ideas and anxieties – effectively blind to the paths he has designed for me.