Footprints

No. This is not a blog about that footprints in the sand poem. If that's what you were expecting, sorry. Personally that story gets on my nerves. Its sort of like the Macarena, you hear it over and over again until you just want to turn the channel. Anyway...

I woke up early this morning to get my run in, but my belly did not cooperate. Curse you Chex Mix!!! The holidays can be so rough on your exercise routine. This morning I was afraid to stray from the house, if you know what I mean. I had only laid out winter running clothes, which meant if I were to run on the treadmill, I would have to go back into my bedroom, root through my drawers, wake up Cathy..... I to save my marriage and lay on the couch for an hour. In order to run today, I would have to do it after work.

Bonus!! It snowed. First real good snow of the season. I love running in the snow. It is so beautiful when everything is covered in white. By the time I got home, we had about 1 & 1/2 inches on the grass. Quickly, I changed into my running gear and headed out. The sidewalks where covered and you could see where people had been walking. Footprints mixed with paw prints. Somebody probably had just walked their dog. There where lots of tracks. So many people had been out enjoying the new fallen snow.

Once I got off the sidewalk in town and onto the shoulder of our city's bypass, I could no longer see the footprints. The county boys had salted the streets and none of the white stuff was to be seen on the main roads or the shoulder. I doubt if anyone would have been out on this busy bypass anyway, especially without a sidewalk. As I came to the end of that road, I could see where snow had blown over the edge of the road just a little bit. Sure enough, there were footprints. You could tell by the distance between the impressions on the ground that these were not walking footprints, but those of a runner. Someone had just been there before me. Running just like me.

We have the story of Christ's birth and his time at the temple when he was pre-teen, then nothing until he began his ministry at the age of thirty. For twenty years God walked among us and told no one who he was. I have often wondered, why? Why keep it a secret? From age 10 to 30 he lived, laughed, cried, and loved incognito. He experienced what it is like to lose a tooth, skin a knee, play games, have a party, lose a loved one. He ate, slept, studied, worked.

No matter what path we are on, someone has gone before us. When we experience something amazing, like the birth of a child, or a job well done, we are not the first. If we are in the midst of sorrow and trials, someone has already been through it. I think that is part of the reason Jesus kept quite. He has been here and done that. I find relief in knowing that he has gone ahead of me and tried the waters. I find comfort in knowing that my savior lived 30 years on this planet and has felt the way I feel. I find peace in knowing that he can speak to me in whatever circumstance I find myself, because he knows where I'm coming from.

I'm glad he has been here before me. Living just like me. Leaving his footprints for me.