Have you ever watched a child try to walk in the footprints of their father or mother? I was one of those kids.
Whenever I went hiking or backpacking with my dad, I usually followed right behind him trying to place my foot exactly where he stepped. When climbing rocky mountain trails, he seemed to sense which stones would give the steadiest foothold. He even blazed trails through mountain streams, knowing which places in the streams to avoid. Following in his footsteps, I knew we were headed in the right direction and on the best path. Only later did I realize some of his many paths were actually longer and not necessarily the intended trail, but the rewards were well worth it. There were a few questionable moments as to his decisions, though they always brought valuable lessons.
When my first four siblings lived in the heart of the mountains, they relied on the footsteps of my father, too. Many a snowy day, which were more days than less, he was the first one out the door to cut a path to the outhouse, barn, or the folks’ home beyond. After the trail was forged, then the kids emerged bundled up, so they walked like Frankenstein. With gloves, hats, and boots secured tightly, they walked in the footsteps prepared just for them. Wherever the boot prints were embedded in the snow, the kids followed, knowing their father was just ahead and would come to their rescue if they needed him. Of course, they attempted their own trails as well.
In my memory, I cannot recount all the times I walked behind my dad. The time came when I walked beside him, and then the time came when I could walk in front of him, sure of the path. If I came to a fork in the trail and questioned myself, all I had to do was pause until I could ask him. And then the time came when he relied solely on my footsteps. The roles reversed.
That’s the way life is. We are followers. Then we are leaders. Then we are followers once again. One of the most profound lessons of this principle is found in nature. I’m sure you have seen a noisy flock of geese overhead. When I hear honking geese, immediately I look up in the sky searching for the geese. One goose leads while others follow in V formation. When the goose in front tires, another comes along side and takes the lead, the “leader” falling back into formation.
Though we have followed the footprints laid before us, there comes a time when we take the lead for a season before passing it on to someone else. Even then, we find ourselves as leader occasionally, even if it’s just in the small things like a kind word of encouragement, a nugget of wisdom, or a truth from the archives of family history.
Cut a trail, take your turn to lead, be willing to fall back so others learn the way, and continue to do your part to make the journey a success.