As I stepped out my front door the other morning, something caught my eye.
Deer tracks.
Fresh tracks pressed into the soft garden soil.
“That’s a big deer,” I said to my husband.
Curious, I followed them with my eyes.
Across the yard they went.
And then my heart sank.
The tracks led straight to my flower pots.
Every blossom was gone.
The deer had enjoyed a midnight feast.
For a moment I felt disappointed.
Then I laughed.
“Well,” I said, “it certainly knows how to find something sweet.”
But the thought stayed with me all day.
The deer left tracks.
They told a story.
Anyone willing to follow them could discover exactly what it desired and where it liked to feed.
And I found myself wondering whether the same is true of me.
If someone followed my footprints, what would they discover?
What do I return to again and again?
What captures my attention?
What do I seek when I am tired?
Where do I linger when no one is watching?
What do I hunger for?
It is a haunting question.
Yet perhaps it is one we must ask often.
For if we never examine our footprints, we may spend years walking without noticing the paths we are quietly making—paths shaped by our desires, our habits, and the things we return to for comfort, and sometimes paths others may one day follow behind us.
Our footprints tell the truth.
They reveal not merely what we say we love, but what we actually pursue.
Scripture is filled with the language of paths, footsteps, and ways.
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
“Ponder the path of your feet.”
“Teach me Your way, O Lord.”
The biblical writers understood something we often forget:
A life is built one footprint at a time.
The question is not whether we are leaving tracks.
We all are.
The question is where they lead.
Do they lead toward bitterness or gratitude?
Toward distraction or presence?
Toward fear or trust?
Toward ourselves or toward God?
Toward things that leave us empty, or toward the One who satisfies?
That one deer taught me more than I expected that morning.
It knew exactly where to find something sweet.
And that became the question I carried with me for the rest of the day:
If someone followed my tracks, would they discover that I know where sweetness is found?
Would they find footprints leading toward the presence of God?
Or toward something else?
One of the most honest things we can do from time to time is follow our own footprints as though they belonged to a stranger.
Not with condemnation.
Not with shame.
But with curiosity.
With honesty.
With courage.
If someone else examined the evidence of my life, what would they conclude?
What do my footprints reveal that I truly desire?
Where do they show that I linger?
What do they say I trust?
What do they reveal that nourishes me?
It is a sobering exercise.
For we often know our intentions better than our habits.
We know the story we tell ourselves.
But footprints tell their own story.
And sometimes they reveal what we have overlooked.
A life is built one footprint at a time.
And if we are willing to follow our own tracks honestly, we may discover not only where we have been, but where we are headed.
The question is:
What story are they telling?
Thank you for reading. If this opened something in you too, I’d love to hear: what do you think your footprints have been revealing lately?
© Gilda Wray. All rights reserved.
I like the way you reflect on your paths. So helpful to have objective curiosity rather than immediate judgmentalism. Deer are smart. They used to ravage my plants when I lived in the woods. I had to fence my little garden side and top completely. They ate a large hosta and Hydrangea down to the ground In 2 days. I pray that God directs my steps to Him, not idols.