Friday, February 06, 2015

The Path



Several inches of snow had blanketed the field during the night with a new fluffy layer.  It looked absolutely beautiful, but it had completely camouflaged my pathway to the chicken coop.

For those of you not familiar with farming in the Canadian snow belt, let me explain.  Although most of us are modern enough to have the snow blown from our driveways, and to shovel our walkways to the front door, we tend to use a different method when creating paths to our out buildings.

When the first heavy snow blocks my way to the chicken coop, I simply put on snowshoes to reach my chickens, but snowshoes are awkward to work in, so after one or two times over the same route, the snow is packed  down sufficiently enough to walk the same route in high boots.  Each time it snows, as long as I follow the same trail, I can continue to pack the snow down.  

There's just one catch.  Only the narrow path is packed down.  If I step the slightest bit off the beaten path I can go down, up to my hips in snow.  When it snows during the night, and the path fills in, I have to find my way one cautious step at a time.

This was the situation I found myself in.  The step carved into the entrance to the path was barely visible but it was there, a huge blessing to know where to start.  From there I continued cautiously, keeping my eye on my destination, and feeling each step with my boot.

Things were going good until I got overconfident.  It only takes one wrong step to go down.  I took that wrong step.  I was down. 

It's cold down in the snow.  It gets into your boots and up your sleeves, and it doesn't want to let you go.   Getting out of deep snow is hard work.  It would be so much easier to just lay there, but of course, that is not an option.  I struggled and finally made it back on my feet, and back on the path.

But the experience got me thinking.  This path I walk on is a narrow one. At times it becomes hidden and it's  hard to find my footing.  I have to search for the firm foundation below all the fluff.  But sometimes I get overconfident and that's when I slip up.  When I step off the path (and I often do) I fall, and when I fall it's hard to get up.  But if I didn't pick myself back up I know it would be fatal.

So, with the help of my Heavenly Father, I get back on my feet, and for the next few steps, at least, I hope I walk more carefully.


For the next post see:  Where Could I Go but to the Lord

For the previous post see: Forty Eight Years Ago



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