We’ve Come This Far: A Journey of Two Generations

In April 2022, my then-20-year-old daughter and I took a trip to Arizona. It was our first mother-daughter trip and something I had dreamed of doing since she was a little girl. I had fallen in love with hiking — my daughter, not so much. It took some persuading, but I managed to convince her to do a hike with me on our day trip to Sedona, only a few miles round-trip. Once at the top, we took in a beautifully sunny and breezy view…all while still breathing easy. Given the climb was more fun than work, I suggested we do another hike on our visit to the Grand Canyon a couple of days later. She was not as easily sold, especially since we would have to walk two and a half miles to the head of the trail before even starting. We again settled on one of the shorter trails, just a few miles. We had just done this a couple of days earlier and felt great! How hard could it be?

What we did not realize is that hiking one mile down into the hot, dry canyon can feel like five. A while in, thinking we must be close to the end, my daughter started complaining about all the big, buzzing flies, and then shortly after, she said she didn’t have the right shoes, and her knees just couldn’t take it. In my attempt to keep her from going over the edge (literally and figuratively), I’d say, “We’re almost there, just a few more feet.”

However, when some time had passed and we still hadn’t reached the end, thinking we had missed a sign and gone farther than intended, we started checking with people who were on their way back up to see how much further we had to go. After hearing, “Just about 10 more minutes” from three different people at three different points, my daughter, almost in tears, said, “That’s it! I can’t do this. It’s too hard and too long. I want to go back.” I stood there for a moment looking at her, contemplating whether to give in and turn back.

All of a sudden, my mind traveled back to April 2004, when I first stood at the doors of the Jeremiah Program, faced with a new path, new challenges, and unfamiliar territory. I stood there, fighting the urge to turn around and go back — to the life I knew, the life that felt familiar. If the fall was this hard, what was it going to take to get back up? How long would it take…and could I even do it?

How was I going to get someone else through this when I had no idea if I could get through it myself? But the welcome at the door gave me a sense of comfort I hadn’t had in a long time.

I then remembered a resident mom and a program staffer opening the door and inviting me in, asking how they could help. I knew then that turning back was not an option. It was no longer just about me. I now had a passenger on the journey: a 2-year-old who depended on me for guidance, support, and safety. I was intimidated, to say the least. How was I going to get someone else through this when I had no idea if I could get through it myself? But the welcome at the door gave me a sense of comfort I hadn’t had in a long time, and I knew I didn’t have the tools or experience to make the journey alone.

Bringing myself back to the present moment in the canyon, I asked myself where I would be had I given up and turned around all those years ago. Then I looked at my daughter and said, “We’ve come this far, so I’m finishing the hike. If you want to turn back, you can, but you’ll never know what’s at the end if you don’t finish.” With a heavy sigh of frustration, she marched past me and continued down the trail. I followed behind, smiling to myself the whole way.

When we got to the end of the trail, I asked her if she wanted to rest for a bit before going back, to which she replied, “Nope, no time to stop. We just need to get back up.” Once again, she marched past me, heading up the hill — only this time, it felt more like determination than frustration. After getting back to the top, I told her we could catch the bus back to our car if she was not up for walking. She looked at me and said, “Mom, we’ve come this far; we might as well go all the way.” I was stunned. Was this the same kid who had begrudgingly hiked down into the canyon with me?!

On our walk back, we stopped at a lookout point. As we watched the sunset, my daughter said, “I know I wasn’t happy about it at the time, but I’m really glad we finished the trail. It’s actually exhilarating!” Again, I was stunned. It can be really hard to tell how we’re doing as parents, but in that moment, I felt like I had won a marathon. I told her I was so proud of her for not giving up and hoped she would carry this moment with her throughout her life. I also told her there would be many moments along the way that seem too hard or simply impossible, but if she keeps pushing ahead, the feeling of accomplishment will often far outweigh the struggle.

Stasia explains why she chose education.

When JP Alumni Fellow Stasia Saunders was a young mother, she had to choose between staying in school and working full-time. She chose education.

read and watch her story

As I write this, my daughter is venturing a new path of her own this year. A path filled with new challenges and unfamiliar territory. A path that includes working as a camp counselor for people with special needs, traveling to new places, camping, mountain climbing, rafting, hiking…and skydiving (once again, stunned!). She admits there have been challenging days when she thought about returning to a life more familiar, but she’s learned she has to adjust and keep going if she is going to create the life she desires.

I share this story from a place of gratitude and appreciation for the gift of refuge and community my daughter and I received over 20 years ago at Jeremiah, a program that still holds such strong roots in our lives decades later. A program that provides a safe haven to remap and rebuild. Thank you to everyone who has been part of our journey. To those who dream through the lens of change and deem uplifting others a worthy investment. To those who encourage us to keep moving forward and keep climbing.

Stasia Saunders is a banking team lead and served as a 2024-2025 JP Alumni Fellow.

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