Footsteps in the Snow

 I knew yesterday would be a snow day.  They've been predicting it for a week.  I allowed myself to sleep in, and then puttered around the house.  When I saw the first snowflakes, I threw on some clothes and headed to the grocery store to pick up a few items.  I was happy to see plenty of milk and bread, although I didn't need them.  By the time I started home, the snow was really coming down and starting to stick on the roads.  My neighborhood streets still had snow on them from last Sunday, so they were rapidly disappearing under a white blanket.  With the prediction of sleet and rain to follow the snowfall, I knew that getting out later on would probably be unpleasant, so I decided to walk over to the labyrinth before the snow got too bad.  I like walking in the snow, if it's not too windy.  The snow muffles everything and brings a sense of peace.  Bundled up in my down jacket with purple scarf wrapped around my neck and mouth, a fleece headband covering my ears. and my hood pulled up to protect my head, I felt cocooned in warmth, at least until the snow started melting on my scarf dampening it with cold moisture.  The tiny, light snowflakes easily brushed off my coat and gloves, though they were accumulating quickly on grass and sidewalk alike. 

When I got to the labyrinth, I saw a light coating of snow on the path and paving stones.  I hesitated to mar the pristine surface with my footsteps.  Pausing at the entrance I said a prayer for CNU, for discernment, for guidance.  And then I began walking.  It was hard to tell which direction the snow was coming from, but at times I turned right into it and got a face full of cold wetness.  I was glad I wore my hiking boots because my steps were sure, and I did not slip at all.  Plus, my feet were warm in a way that they wouldn't have been in my running shoes that are intentionally designed to allow my feet to breathe.  Good in summer but the feature that allows the heat out also allows the cold and damp in. 

Once in the center I could see that my footsteps closer to the entrance were already fading under the falling snow.  I didn't spend as much time as usual in the center though I did turn to face each of the four directions as is my custom.  On my journey back out, I walked in my own footsteps so as not to disturb any of the rest of the snow.  By the time I reached the opening, my earlier footsteps had completely disappeared both from the path and from the sidewalk leading to the labyrinth.  We leave our mark, and then it fades away.  How ephemeral our lives are. 
Psalm 103 says,
   "Our days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the field;
   When the wind goes over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more."  (15-16)
So too with our footsteps in the snow.  On my way back home, the snow was already much deeper.  More people had been out walking and even bicycling in the snow, but my tracks had been obliterated.

I know, though, that I was there.   And now, others do, too.  My footsteps may be buried beneath the snow, but they are there, marking my path to the center and back.  I wonder if part of my yearning to write is about leaving footsteps that will remain.  All this snow makes me reflective. Perhaps watching my footsteps disappear in the snow is a good lesson in letting go.  One that has always been hard for me.  I could have sung Elsa's theme song from Frozen when I was in the center.  "Let it go, let it go."  Please help me in the letting go, God.