Footprints, too.

I dreamed I saw my life as a sandy seashore.

My first marks looked like two furrows in an unplanted field as I crawled on all fours alongside the water of life.

My two small prints joined a chorus of impressions as I trailed behind the walkings of family, then friends.

Then I met You . . . our footprints became four . . . and my journey . . . became Yours.

The tracings and trampings of others were always before me, behind me, and around me . . . but our way was two . . . and I could always distinguish our prints from all of the others.

I even learned the lesson from seeing a single pair of deeply set indentations . . . sometimes you carried me.

But tonight I saw a confusion of scrapes and circles, backwards and forwards. A disarray of digs, pivots, drags, and jumps. Sand kicked and tossed, ‘round and ‘round, no progression, no progress, no advance, no promotion.

“What happened, Lord? Did I lose my way? Did I lose my mind? Did I fail or fall? What was this mayhem, this havoc, this seemingly pointless commotion? What gave rise to this disorder and pandemonium in our journey together?”

He laughed at me with that warm familiar ring of soul-thrilling amusement, compassion, and adoration . . .

“Child,” He said with a lingering, admonishing smile in his voice, “that was when we danced!”

(Based on a 1990 poem by Mark Littleton in Escaping the Time Crunch)