Footprints in the mud

I have, somewhere, a book of walks in Easter Ross.  Many years ago some of us tried out the one that leads from the roadside of the B9176 near the viewpoint, up Struie and along to Struie Hill where the telephone mast stands. The walk was a disaster, because of a time-dishonoured practice:  ignoring the map.

Recently, I tried the walk again. The mist around Struie didn’t bode well but a light breeze shifted it soon after I reached the first summit. All the way up to the top I had, shamefully, been feeling annoyed at seeing pretty fresh footprints on the track. I had wanted to be on my own and now the place was going to be crawling with walkers!

Grumbling, I set off from the first landmark towards the second. It was not far from here that the trouble had started 15 or 16 years before. Then I saw them again: the footprints. Not clear whether they were coming towards me or going my way. No matter; they were, no doubt, a safe indication, both of firm ground and of where the faint track was leading.

On I plodded. There can’t be, anywhere, a more invigorating air than Highland moorland air, can there? And now the track has disappeared again. But a few bent bulrushes to the left give it away and yes, there is a fresh set of footprints, again!  Grudgingly I started to appreciate their value. Their makers were nowhere to be seen but their work was making mine easier.

Well, I reached my destination after an hour [and 16 or so years] and then started back.  Now, most definitely, these fresh marks were indispensable. On I travelled. Below to my right an RAF aircraft noiselessly and unhurriedly floated along in the mid-morning air, probably up Strathcarron.  The footprints made the last weary stretch a dawdle, they had become ‘friends’; I was glad every time I saw them.

Now, you may, of course, think that the fresh air had turned my brain. [I don’t think it needed the fresh air to do that!] But with that brain, whether turned or not, I began to muse. Weren’t these footprints just like life?

There are some people we’d rather avoid – we see evidence of their presence and wish we could be miles away from them. But we can’t. Allow me to think particularly of church life here. Here, we have just got to get on with it.  And in moments of need these people, that person, proves to be helpful. In due time our opinion changes; at last our friendship is won and won for ever.  And when God first draws attention to Himself we can resent it. But if we are open-minded enough, well, the possibilities are endless and, of course, the road is so much easier to bear.