Footprints in the Snow

With all due respect to Robert Frost, the “road less traveled by” isn't always the way to go. There's no doubt that there is a time, a place and a power to divergence. In fact, some of the most brilliant and impactful people upon this Earth are those who have "made all the difference" by veering off on some unbeaten path. Sometimes I think there's too much attention paid to outliers and not enough attention paid to the wisdom of following in someone else's footsteps.

I moved to Michigan five years ago from California where I was raised most of my life. (Read: I went from no snow to hella snow. Like snow for days and weeks at a time. Like snow so high you can't open your garage door. Snow taller than your toddler.) I went from the land of perpetual sunshine to a place where the sun hardly comes out for five months. Huge geographic change. Big cultural shift. But nothing outweighs the change in weather.

People told me when I first arrived that I'd survive as long as I figured out the "right clothing." It only took me 4 years to know what they meant by “the right clothing.” What they meant was heavy beanies and droopy hats that cover your ears. They meant thick scarves that cover absolutely every inch of your neck, thermal undergarments (upper and lower body), socks so heavy they only fit in your chunky winter boots. Oh and chunky winter boots. The kind that weigh at least 2 pounds more than all of your other shoes combined. You could easily harm someone with said boots should you take them off your feet in a moment of self-defense. I'm just sayin’, these Michiganders don't play when it comes to winter foot wear. Sorel, Merrels, Columbia, Keens. 

They. Don’t. Play.

It just so happens that even with (even with!) my super fly, calf-muscle-high black and white Sorels on, the snow is high enough that moisture makes its way into the crack between my jeans and foot gear. No good. This happened the other day when I was trying to make it from my car to the gym entrance for my Cross Fit class. I'd be damned if I was going to arrive with cold, wet feet! It's just not my style, metaphorically or in reality. I stopped after my second step, looked around and realized that someone had already made the trek before me. There were footprints in the snow leading from the parking lot to the sidewalk. I thanked God out loud and jumped over to where the compact snow could be trusted to keep me dry. It was exactly the route I needed to make it to my destination in tip top shape. Of course I got my ass kicked in Cross Fit once I arrived. But at least I got my ass kicked with toasty toes. I digress.

Here's the thing: someone else had to walk through that snow and make a way. Someone else had to endure cold feet in order to create that path. Why not take it? How often do we arrive new on some scene and feel like we've got to reinvent the wheel, be a creative genius from the get-go, never ask for help and make our own way out of no way? Sometimes sacrifices have been made to pave a way for us. We can acknowledge these sacrifices and choose with gratitude and pride. Sometimes it's just plain easier to believe that someone smarter than us went ahead of us once (or maybe five times.) Maybe navigating is a bit easier when you can follow someone else's directions…at least part of the time.

When I was in divinity school, I would get irritated at having to read theologians of the past. Who cares what Augustine, Aquinas, Howard Thurman and Mary Daly have said or are saying? I had my ideas and I wanted to get to them in class, in the dining hall, in conversations everywhere, all the time! You know what I found once colleagues and professors put a cease and desist order on my ego? I found that my ideas about God were nothing new. Many, many intelligent people had been down those intellectual paths way before me and would go down them after me too.

Cold feet suck. So do pompous egos. Sometimes the beaten path can be what makes all the difference.