The future lies before you, like paths of pure white snow.
Be careful how you tread it, for every step will show.
~Unknown
Be careful how you tread it, for every step will show.
~Unknown
During morning church service on Sunday, it began snowing. It is not common event in Georgia to see nature's soft, white blanket covering all and recording our steps, even if only for a brief time.
How brief is our time in this life. I have been feeling that so much lately.
How many more footprints will I have time to leave? How long will their impression last? Where will my footprints lead? Will I seek the Lord before I determine my way? Will the testament of my life be an inspiration of faith to someone else? Will I have walked a careful path for another to follow?
White, fluffy snow quietly resting on the land. There is nothing like a freshly snow-covered world, so unspoiled, so pure. It reminds me that I can start again fresh, even with all the sins I committed against my Lord, He will forgive me where I am. Like a child, I strain to again make my impressions in the snow; the first imprint tells not only the direction I take, but from where I started. Will I spoil this gift that has fallen from heaven or will my passing give its own beauty to the landscape? Will someone seek the same path or will I alone comprehend the short-lived memorial so soon to melt away?
Perhaps snow seems different to me now. I think the most vivid memory of my mother's burial, just a month ago, will always be the thick blanket of snow covering the ground in my home state. With miles of flat whiteness swept along by the winds, Ohio was bitterly cold and beautiful. I still have not sorted out all my feelings from the trip, but seeing those frozen flakes, so seldom as we do here, was a sweet memory of my Lord's grace—there will always be a snow-white blanket of forgiveness covering my sins. What a comfort that is to me.
How brief is our time in this life. I have been feeling that so much lately.
How many more footprints will I have time to leave? How long will their impression last? Where will my footprints lead? Will I seek the Lord before I determine my way? Will the testament of my life be an inspiration of faith to someone else? Will I have walked a careful path for another to follow?
White, fluffy snow quietly resting on the land. There is nothing like a freshly snow-covered world, so unspoiled, so pure. It reminds me that I can start again fresh, even with all the sins I committed against my Lord, He will forgive me where I am. Like a child, I strain to again make my impressions in the snow; the first imprint tells not only the direction I take, but from where I started. Will I spoil this gift that has fallen from heaven or will my passing give its own beauty to the landscape? Will someone seek the same path or will I alone comprehend the short-lived memorial so soon to melt away?
Perhaps snow seems different to me now. I think the most vivid memory of my mother's burial, just a month ago, will always be the thick blanket of snow covering the ground in my home state. With miles of flat whiteness swept along by the winds, Ohio was bitterly cold and beautiful. I still have not sorted out all my feelings from the trip, but seeing those frozen flakes, so seldom as we do here, was a sweet memory of my Lord's grace—there will always be a snow-white blanket of forgiveness covering my sins. What a comfort that is to me.
My Lord, may I take the path You lay before me. With each step, may I seek your guidance, leaving footprints as a testament to glorify You.
