I Am My Tracks

Snowshoeing is new to me. I got some for Christmas but this last week is the first time there's been enough snow for me to get out there and stomp around. Yesterday the clouds pulled back, revealing a bright sun glistening and sparkling from the soft pillow of snow covering the whole forest. My new snowshoes were strapped on, pushing through the white and spraying my dark jeans with frosty powder. With snowshoes, it's much more fun to walk through the deepest snow.

I found faded footprints leading up a hidden trail and followed them way back into the woods, toward Lake Michigan. The trail split and headed down into a ravine, where a wooden fence stood guard as I walked around it. The footprints were smaller now, but I was determined to reach the lake. Branches heavy with snow hung over my path. Fallen trees made a jungle gym through which I clumsily maneuvered, my feet framed by snowshoes. Wind blew the treetops above, from which fell big clumps of snow all around. I was
deep into the unfamiliar snow-filled ravine when I reached a fallen tree too high to climb over and too low to crawl under. The air was brittle and frigid; my nose became numb. I realized I left my cell phone behind and I have no idea how long I've been wandering in the cold. An hour? Longer?

In the afternoon I will talk with a man from a church out in Grand Rapids. I'll be leading worship for them twice in February so he and I made a date to get to know one another first. He will ask about my journey and I will recount it to him. At some points I made bold and brave strides. At some points I followed the wrong footsteps. Sometimes I went into deep, fresh powder and blazed my own trail. Sometimes there was risk and sometimes I played it safe. And it has all led me to where I am. I am not just a man in the middle of his journey; I am my journey.


Recently I have been stuck by the uncertainty of my future. I am frozen at a fallen tree too big to climb over. So where is God leading my wife and I? What do I hold onto and what must I release? What do I value the most? What is the wisdom by which I ought to be making decisions? I get turned around and sometimes even lost at the end of a ravine. How did I get here?

I do know that whatever footprints led me to this place and whatever steps I take next, I cannot be lost. Behind me are my giant snowshoe tracks, blazing a clear trail home. If I am stuck until nightfall, I can be found. I relax and exhale, watching my breath slowly disappear like fog.