Trust the Process.

My husband and I recently had the incredible opportunity to travel to Southern Spain for our 15-year anniversary. While we were there, we decided, on a whim, to hike La Concha, a beautiful but steep mountain that overlooks the coast. The first lesson I learned is that when AllTrails says “this is a challenging hike,” maybe you should listen. . .

Now, I enjoy working out so consider myself somewhat fit, but let me just say: there’s hiking, and then there’s hiking. This was the latter. Nine miles, six hours, and more than 4,000 feet of elevation gain—most of it on terrain that barely qualified as a “trail.” In many places, it was nothing more than loose rocks and sheer drop-offs.

About halfway through, we ran into a native Spanish hiker who urged us to turn back, calling it “very dangerous” in broken English. I grimaced but my husband convinced me to keep going.

Picture another hour of clambering over rocks, add in no cell signal, and my internal “fight or flight” system kicked in big-time (I tend to choose both options in moments of panic). We (i.e., my husband) had downloaded the map from AllTrails, but I was convinced we’d lost our way. The path didn’t feel right (mostly because there WAS no path!!) but also because I couldn’t see where we were going.

So when I spotted another hiker in the distance, practically sprinting along what looked like a clear trail below us, I insisted on moving towards this “trail.” Joe, however, insisted we stay on the AllTrails rocks, I refused . . . anyone who’s been married for a while can imagine the rest.

But once I made it down to the “new path,” it became obvious: there was no clear trail. What I thought I saw was just a visual illusion. It turns out the rocky ridge was actually the real route, as indicated by a small yellow marker a few steps ahead, and spotted by my husband. (In defense of my panic, American trails are much clearer).

So much of life is like this, isn’t it?

Whether it’s in business, career decisions, relationships, parenting, or even your faith—there are moments when we feel like we’ve lost the trail. Or was there even a trail to begin with?! The plan doesn’t seem to match what you’re seeing or feeling. The path gets rocky. Your gut tells you to panic. You want to bail. And someone else’s journey starts to look like the “right” one.

But what if the map is still good?

What if the fact that it’s hard—or unclear—doesn’t mean you’re on the wrong path?

We live in a world that values instant clarity and constant pivoting. But sometimes, the best thing you can do is trust the process. Keep following the markers, even if they’re faint. Trust the plan you made when your head was clear and the path was still visible.

My dad used to say, “Never doubt in the darkness what you knew in the light.”

The real growth often happens not when things are easy, but when you decide to keep climbing—even when everyone else seems to be trail running on a much easier path.

And yes, we eventually did make it to the top of La Concha. On a clear day, you can see the Straits of Gibraltar and the edge of North Africa. It’s a place (and a hike) I’ll never forget. I’m really glad we trusted the map.