Tracks

             Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21)

 

          I went to the peninsula yesterday morning, as early as I could get out the door, with the hope of finding Trumpeter Swans. Instead, I found thoughts. One was that the scenes around me are meant to speak of death or deep slumber because that’s the way the world is here in Erie at this time of year. But even beyond Erie, some would say the world is dying. They might be right. Scripture says it will happen. If it is not dying now, it is broken and has been since Adam and Eve at of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. As beautiful, clean, and quiet as the snow makes the world seem, it only does so at the cost of life.

          When I got to Beach 11, I found footprints, sled prints, and tire tracks in the snow but no swans. I followed the trail and realized quickly that if it had not been for the snow, the trail would not be there. Here, in the winter, it was clear that this was the way in which I should walk. Dead weeds rose above the snow, and in the warmth of spring, summer, and fall, people would not walk where I trod because the plants are in the way, or because while I walked on water made solid by the cold, they would have to walk in water, where no path remains.

          It is in the desolate time that we find the paths, not made by someone with head held high and deliberately marked out so we could follow their way. No, it is in the winter seasons of our lives that we can follow the paths of those who have braved the cold trudged through the ice, not obscured by leaves or distracted by plants, but left just because they were passing through and could not avoid leaving them.

          And when we, having followed, happen upon another soul, we easily imagine them as kindred spirits. And others, finding our tracks through our winters may find their way to be safety, hope, and beauty through theirs.