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Last night I had a
dream. I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the
sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand: one belonged to me, the other to the Lord.
After the last scene of my life flashed before me, I looked back at
the footprints in the sand. I noticed that at many times along the path of
my life, especially at the very lowest and saddest times, there was only
one set of footprints.
This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it.
"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, You would walk with
me all the way. But I noticed that during the saddest and most
troublesome times of my life, there was only one set of footprints. I
don't understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me."
The Lord replied, "My son, my precious child, I felt like you needed
a little pick-me-up. So I went to buy you a Slushee from the vendor
on the boardwalk. But I came back. I mean, look further down
the beach -- there are two sets of footprints."
I hate to say it, but I didn't buy it. Something about the way the
Lord spoke -- a certain shiftiness in His gaze -- made me suspicious.
And besides, as I told him, "I don't remember any Slushee."
"Or I got you an ice cream bar, or something," He said, hurriedly.
"But if you keep following the footprints," I said,
"down there, past the jetty, there’s only one set of footprints again."
"Where?" the Lord said -- to buy time, I think.
"Down by that woman in the red bathing suit.
Eating the sandwich."
"That looks like a good sandwich," said the Lord.
"There’s no ice cream vendor down there. So
where did You go? I remember feeling especially bummed at that
point in the journey of my life. Why is there only one set of
footprints?"
"I was -- I was levitating," said the Lord.
"I was floating beside
you."
I looked at my sad set of footprints.
"Sorry, Lord, I don’t remember that, either."
The Lord took a deep breath. "Okay, to be honest, you can be a real
drag sometimes. And you tend to store up these little slights, and harbor
them like some squirrel with his nuts -- and when you don't get your way
you dig up these slights and bombard people with them. Me, your
girlfriend, your family. It's a tendency with you I’ve noticed for a long
time, and I need to call you on it. I clearly remember the day we walked
past that woman in the red bathing suit, and I wasn't having it. You were
ranting about how your boss took credit for the Powerpoint presentation
you did for the Levy account, and there was a Rwandan family suffering
at the same time, and I thought it was a ridiculous waste of time to be
there walking beside you. I was pretty pissed, frankly, and I
needed some time for me."
I was ashamed. "Forgive me, Lord."
"But look further, my son," He said, "I walked
beside you when Nipper died."
I scanned the beach. "Where was that,
Lord, in the journey of my life?"
"Down by the guy with the cooler, selling the
beer."
Now I remembered. The Lord was especially comforting that day.
"And when you broke into Maureen's AOL account to read her emails and
she was making fun of your recent weight gain -- see? My footprints are
right there," said the Lord. "And I was there when you had that corn
on your foot, remember?"
"That was a bad corn. I almost needed surgery for that."
"My blessed, precious child, when you had that corn, if you look, you
can see only one set of footprints. For it was then that I carried you."
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