Like many of you, we've had our share of nasty weather recently. Yesterday we had a mild ice storm that left a crust on the snow.
Tasha and I keep up our walking, no matter what the weather. When it snows, I trudge along , back and forth, over and over, until there is a decent path in the snow. It's kind of insane but makes for great leg muscles. Tasha doesn't need my path...she loves the snow and springs about like a puppy.
The ice crust is another matter. Unless it's an inch thick, she breaks through and it hurts her feet. Fortunately, I've flattened the paths so the crust--while slippery--is irrelevant. We've had nice walks yesterday and today.
Until this afternoon, until I decided to leave the path and check something out. Tasha followed me and immediately broke through the crust. Her joy turned to pain, to my consternation.
"Hey!" I screamed (because it takes screaming to get her attention). "This way."
I was breaking the crust so all she had to do was follow in my footsteps. But she wanted to go her own way, something that caused the spring in her step to transform into a slouch of the shoulders. The discomfort was written all over her gray snout but, as much and as loudly as I pleaded with her to come walk behind me, she just kept plodding along and breaking through the crust.
Tasha has an excuse for not getting into my footsteps...she is, after all, a dog.
What excuse do I have when I'm punching through the crust of life and wincing with every step...when I could be springing with joy because I'm following in God's footsteps?