In Every Footprint

Chillaxing on Electric Pass, Colorado

There’s an old song (well, not too old; it was released during my lifetime) that goes like this:

“Let mercy lead

Let love be the strength in your legs

And in every footprint that you leave

There’ll be a drop of grace.”*

Footprint at White Sands, New Mexico
Footprint at White Sands, New Mexico

I like the think about that song when I’m hiking.  It seems I leave a lot of footprints, so if I get to leave a drop of grace in each one, it seems I should be leaving a lot behind while I’m hiking.

Millions of footprints at Great Sand Dunes, Colorado
Millions of footprints at Great Sand Dunes, Colorado

One of the constant things my siblings and I do while hiking is to follow each other’s footprints in the dust on the trail.  “There’s Mom’s shoes going up,” my sister will say, and “We must be on the right trail; I can see my brother’s footprint right there.”  It works great until someone gets a new pair of shoes; then we’re back to square one trying to figure out who’s print that is.

Chillaxing near the Hidden Lake Lookout, Washington
Chillaxing near the Hidden Lake Lookout, Washington

This past trip, I had a new pair of hiking boots.  They made prints like the classic “don’t step here” signs that the national park service puts down to discourage people from walking off of the trail.  It almost made me self-conscious; those prints were so classic.

One of the first trails I took with my first pair of hiking boots - Black Mesa, Oklahoma
One of the first trails I took with my first pair of hiking boots – Black Mesa, Oklahoma

Every once in a while, knowing each other’s footprints saves us: I recall a specific time heading up to Duck Pass where we were waiting for some of the slower members of the group to catch up.  We waited, and waited, and waited… to the point where we started to get seriously worried.  I stayed put with the GPS while some of my siblings went up and down the trail to see what had happened to the others.  Heading up the trail, they found footprints that could belong to no one else other than my mom.  It turned out the slower members of the group had accidentally cut a switchback and bypassed us altogether; now they were wondering where we had disappeared off to!

Switchbacks on the Turkey Path, Pennsylvania
Switchbacks on the Turkey Path, Pennsylvania

Every footprint is unique.  Last week I was hiking somewhat off-trail and discovered we were following footprints.  I started naming them: “There’s pointy-shoes,” I said, pointing to an especially unique print with spiky imprints in the sand of the wash.  “And we’re also following swirly-pattern.  I wonder where they went from here?”

Footprints on Floras Lake Beach, Oregon
Footprints on Floras Lake Beach, Oregon

Every footprint in the dust is unique.  So is the “drop of grace” left behind when someone leaves a footprint.  Some people will leave behind fear or anger or bitterness.  Other people will leave behind joy or peace or faith or favor or love or mercy or grace.  Each footprint leaves behind a bit of who that person is, what they’re about.

Ibantik Lake, Utah
Ibantik Lake, Utah

It happens in real life, too, even if the floors are too hard to leave a physical footprint.  We have the power – whether we want it or not – to leave that drop of grace behind us in our footsteps.  I want to leave mercy and love behind – but most of all I just want the people who come after me to feel Jesus.

*“Let Mercy Lead” by Rich Mullins

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