For many years when I have hiked down beaches and through forests, I cut four marks into a log or dead tree to mark my way. Sometimes I chopped four lines with a hatchet or machete; occasionally I labored a little longer with my pocket knife. These four blazes marked the furthest point of my trek or the path taken where the trail forked.
But these marks also represent four prayers and four sons. As I made each mark, peeled off the bark, and chipped out the wood into a long groove, I prayed for God’s blessing on each son. Sometimes the slashes in the wood expressed even deeper wounds in my heart. I suspect many marked logs are now overgrown with moss and those on distant beaches have been scoured by storms or are now drifting somewhere in the Pacific. But I know my prayers are anchored in the heart of God and working in the lives of my boys.
In many ways my sons will be the main marks I leave behind–they will, I pray, be what marks the paths I have chosen and the places I have gone. And although everyone may need to find their own path, I hope their paths are always Godward. I hope my prayers and words have marked the way to friendship with God.
