The young woman sharing this week’s Inspiration is near and dear to my heart. My daughter, Alyssa Brade, and I have hiked many challenging life trails together through the years. She is a beautiful person of strength, sensitivity, kindness, and creativity. She continually exhibits the character of Jesus in her nurture of her two sons, my amazing grandchildren! Her first book Mommy Needs a Minute: From Burnout to Empowerment will be released May 21st. Welcome Alyssa Brade to the trailhead where we take our inspirational walk this week!

Guest post by Alyssa Brade

“Mama! Carry me?”

Little hands reached for my pant leg, but I forced myself to keep walking. I knew if I looked back I would go back toward him. So, instead, I called over my shoulder, “You can do it! I believe in you!” The sagebrush scratched against my legs as his cries scratched against my heart.

We were nearing the end of our three-mile hike—a long distance when you’ve just turned two.

The little voice stayed persistent behind me.

“Mama, me can’t!”

My hands clenched. Every part of me longed to pick him up. But I knew he was capable of finishing the hike. So, I kept walking.

“Me tired. Me cry.”

I paused, longing to turn back and give him what he wanted. Every instinct told me I should rescue him. But I kept walking.

“Mama! No leave me!” Panic laced his words.

Steadying my willpower, I turned around. But I didn’t retrace my steps back down the path. Instead, I called, “I would never leave you. You can do it! Catch up to me.”

Sometimes, it means we love them enough to wait for the warrior’s heart to grow within them.

His little face twisted into a look of pure determination as he raced to cross the fifteen feet that separated us. Flopping into my waiting arms, he asked, “Now, carry me?”

I felt my heart break all over again. I wanted nothing more than to carry him. To tell him that I would always carry him through all of life’s hardships. That I hated that his legs were tired and that he had snot running down his nose and tears leaving spots in the dirt behind us. I wanted to spare him from walking the last stretch.

But I also knew that carrying him would do him no favors. It might make his life easier today, but it wouldn’t help him tomorrow. I knew he was capable of making it back to the car. I knew that if I saved him from this it wasn’t just carrying him the final stretch, it was teaching him that someone else would carry him when things got hard. When he got tired. When the road was too long and the journey was too difficult. When I knew he had more in him to give, even if he didn’t know it yet. I needed to show him what I already knew to be true—he was capable of making it to the end.

Hebrews 12:1-2 (NIV): “…And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

So, instead of carrying him, I turned around, placed my hand in his, and whispered, “I won’t carry you. But we can walk the last bit together.”

We strode down the path, me pulling him along for parts of it. I tried to distract him by pointing out all the beautiful things that were easy to miss—the ladybug, the leaves, the sweet smell of pine. I held his hand, squeezing it when he cried. After all, I understood. It was a big challenge when you were two. I was asking a lot of him. I offered him words of encouragement, reminding him of all I knew he was, all I saw within him. And when he asked again and again for me to pick him up, I told him I would walk with him, but I wouldn’t carry him. Eventually, we made it to the parking lot where my husband and the baby had arrived just moments earlier. Once we saw them, my son raced the final few feet before turning back to me, announcing, “Me win!” He flexed his arm in proud triumph and added, “Me strong!”

I nodded, “Yes, the strongest. I knew you could do it.”

I often wonder how many times in my life I beg and scream for the Father to come and rescue me from the challenging paths life requires us to walk. Did His heart break when I cried that I was at the end of my own strength and perseverance?

How many times does our Heavenly Father look down the path knowing the parking lot is just ahead? How many times does He reassure me that I have everything I need to make it? That I am strong, capable, resilient. That I have a warrior spirit within me—a soul that life can’t break because He endured the pain of birthing my salvation. Did He long to turn back and carry me when I left dusty tears along our trail?

Philippians 4:13 (NIV): “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

I remember the times I kicked at the dirt, staring at the endless road ahead, screaming that my Father was cruel for refusing to carry me. How long did He patiently wait for me to keep moving while I wallowed in a sea of self-doubt, insecurities, and helplessness? Did He wish I would still my heart so I could hear His words whispering hope, life, comfort, encouragement?

Psalm 23:4 (NIV): “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

I remember the times I rose on unsteady feet and seeing no other option, started to walk forward. How many times did I whisper my abandonment, anger, and resentment toward the Father who refused to rescue me? Did He shake His head in empathy and understanding, knowing He can’t always carry me, but He will forever walk beside me?

I never understood why my earthly and consequently my Heavenly Father didn’t rescue me from every hardship. It seemed cruel. How can you say you love someone all while watching them struggle to continue on? Doesn’t true love mean rescuing someone from suffering?

It wasn’t until I became a mother that I realized the deep, naive sadness that lay beneath the surface of my adolescent conclusion. This type of thinking robbed me of a deeper intimacy with the Father and a deeper relationship with my own children. It wasn’t until I became a mother that I realized true love doesn’t always mean carrying someone.

Sometimes, it means we walk alongside them through the challenges. Sometimes, it means we love them enough to wait for the warrior’s heart to grow within them. Because the wisdom of time and perspective has taught us that it’s only through hardship and trials that we become strong, unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. We love our children enough to give them the space to grow strong—even if the growing pains break our hearts.

Only through walking the dark valleys, high mountains, and endless miles do we become independent, capable, and brave. Only through pushing when our legs shake and we don’t think we have anything left to give can we become confident in ourselves and our ability to accomplish challenging things.

We love our children enough to push them to walk because we know they’re capable. Why wouldn’t our Heavenly Father love us in the same manner?

On this Mother’s Day, I hope you remember that you are never abandoned on the side of the trail by the one who loves you best. Your Heavenly Father will never leave you. There are mountains that feel insurmountable, currents that threaten to pull you under, moments where you stare into the darkness and wonder if anyone can hear you. But He was always on the trail with you—loving you perfectly, walking alongside you because He knows something you might not yet… You are growing the heart of a warrior.

Matthew 28:20 (NIV): “.`..And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

“Walk Together”