Four days ago the ground boasted of little more than sticks, dormant grass, and a few stray, dead leaves. Today a white blanket of snow, several inches deep, spreads over its barrenness. On Friday morning its fresh fallen beauty awed so many West Michiganders that if you had signed into Facebook at any given moment throughout the day you would have found at least 563 newly posted photos! (Okay, slight exaggeration.) I myself contributed four to the pile, each one of my beloved dog romping in it, sniffing the air, and looking quite mystified by all the whiteness. Aside from his few tracks, though, my yard remained fresh and mostly untouched as the snow continued falling for the next 24 hours.
What of today? Well, now that the snow has stopped falling it's full of tracks, dog and people and sled tracks. Yesterday, the grandkids, Peyton, and Papa played and rolled and tromped through the yard, making tracks of all shapes and sizes.
I'm reminded of my daddy's tracks when I was a kid and how after a heavy snowfall I'd follow in his fresh tracks to avoid getting snow up my pant legs, which begs the question - what kinds of tracks do I leave as I go about my day? Do I leave the kind that people want to put their own feet into and follow behind? I pray so.
I try to follow in the tracks that Jesus made when He walked this earth. I say try, but really, it is only by His grace and strength, and not my own feeble efforts, that I'm able to do so. Somedays it's hard living a holy life. Something as simple as a driver cutting me off at the turn can catch me in an unholy moment!
"Oh, Father, may the tracks I make on this earth be the kind that make a mark for eternity; may my footprints lead others straight to YOU. In Your Name I pray. Amen."