Oh, the joy of being a grandparent. Today it meant going on the kindergarten field trip with our grandson Finn. Little sister Irene had joined us, all too excited to be with big brother for the morning. The sun shimmered on the weekend snow covering, making the temperature just right for a light coat.

Upon arriving at the pumpkin patch, the children were read a wonderful pumpkin story. Then we climbed aboard an open wagon pulled by a tractor and headed out to the corn maze. As we made our way along the muddy road, I questioned whether we'd make it through that much muck. Alas, we arrived at the entrance to the maze and climbed off the wagon.

Our muddy experience had just begun. Tromping through the maze, it wasn't long before untied boots got stuck in the mud and slippery ground landed a few little ones on their bottoms. After only getting lost once, we finally reached the end of the maze with all twelve children and seven adults. As we surveyed our feet, I laughed, noting that almost everyone’s boots were twice as large as their actual size, caked with layers of mud.

Thinking back to these enlarged boots, I thought of a man who had recently been called home by Jesus. Pastor Ron Todd had been our family pastor through decades. He and his wife Becky had been a part of our spiritual lives in just about every capacity: He had prayed for me prior to surgeries, attended the funeral of our father, advised us about issues with our children, counseled us in marriage, and prayed over our home. Pastor Ron had also led over seventy mission teams including the three to Ethiopia Kassi and I took. Each trip, Pastor Ron led morning devotions, testimonies, and Sparkle time at the end of the day to share our highlights. He pointed us to Jesus and gave Him glory at every opportunity, all with great energy and enthusiasm. He could outwork men half his age as he clamored across roofs, shaky scaffolding, or scurried around the villages gathering supplies for projects. Pastor Ron had an infectious smile. His long arms equipped him to embrace others in spontaneous bear hugs. He loved Jesus wholeheartedly.

So, what do mud-caked boots have to do with this man? Well, it occurred to me, much like the bulky boots, he was a man who, wherever he went, left a footprint at least twice his foot size. In all he did, more of him and his purpose for life spilled out beyond the task, the project, or the moment. His servanthood for Christ went beyond. Even now, when he is no longer here on earth, he left so much behind, like a mist from a waterfall or a fog that flows through the valley beyond the boundaries of the river. His footprint in life overflowed in ways I'm sure he never imagined.

What a legacy. What an example. What an amazing way to live life that no matter what, it went beyond the moment. Beyond our time here on earth.

Like Pastor Ron, I want to leave a footprint that is way larger than my actual shoe size; one that lingers and overflows into generations to come. Matthew 28:19 says "Therefore, go and make disciples of nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit," (NIV) and might I add, if you leave a little mud along the way, that's okay too.