Wrapped in a fuzzy flannel blanket, I sat on the window seat looking out at 36 inches of freshly fallen snow. The blizzard of the last two days had finally ceased and “normalcy” was beginning to return.
As I drank my coffee, the once lifeless streets of the last 48 hours began to come alive with activity. One by one people began to emerge from their homes and with shovels in hand they began the laborious task of clearing the huge mounds of snow that impeded their mobility.
I found interest watching them as they began to dig out. Some focused on their cars while others labored around their doors. One man waded out to his car, brushed off the top of it, and waded back to his home (I didn’t see him again for the rest of the day). As for me, I slowly continued to sip my hot cup of coffee, putting off the inevitable as long as I could.
Then out of the corner of my eye something caught my attention. It was a solitary figure walking down the middle of the street. His movements were slow but steady as he waded through the thigh high snow and his presence seemed odd in comparison to the others who were far too busy to notice that he was there.
Never once did he falter in his steps as his legs broke through the highly drifted snow. Never once did he stop and look back.
He steadily continued onward, determined to reach his destination, and before long he passed from sight only to leave behind a small path as evidence of his journey.
A short time later others emerged and embarked down the path that the solitary figure had carved. Each one carefully following his footsteps so as not to fall. Each one benefiting a much easier and less laborious walk in comparison to the one who had blazed it before them.
* * * *
Much snow had fallen and a lot of ground had been covered. Much snow needed to be removed and great amounts of labor was expended to clear individual driveways and parking spaces.
But it was the path, carved by the solitary figure that became the portal of mobility for our neighborhood. It was his single footsteps that served and benefited all who chose to walk in them.
How trials can be much like a blizzard, dumping tons of snow, and leaving us stranded, and immobilized. How Christ, the solitary figure, walks ahead, never faltering in His step while carving a way of escape. Cutting a path, that if I choose to walk in His footsteps, is less laborious and easier to travel.
I am sure that the lone figure who struck out on a wintery mission that day isn’t aware that he left behind much more then snowy footprints. Not only did he leave a beneficial path for others to use, he left me with a valuable image of a loving God.