Footprints in the Sand

I am sure most, if not all, of you have read the little poem called "Footprints in the Sand."

I used to see parts of it on inspirational bookmarks and the like, growing up.

I just looked it up and apparently it is disputed who actually wrote it.  There are a few variations as well, but here is the gist of it.

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.” 

It's a nice poem.  It's nice to think about the Lord carrying us when we aren't able to do it on our own.  I like it.  I always have.  

A few weeks ago I was in California walking along Newport Beach alone.  I had jeans on and Chucks.  

There was already sand in my shoes, but I didn't mind.  My friends Lindsey and Lisa were up a few hundred feet in front of me walking along the shore and letting the waves wash up onto their bare feet.  I don't know why I wasn't with them.  Probably because I didn't want to soak my shoes or take them off. I was walking a little further up on the shore.  The sand was still wet, but the waves were not immediately coming up that far on the beach.  I watched my feet as I walked slowly, thinking about different things and occasionally looking out at the surfers, and runners, and kids.  

This lady was my favorite.  She stood on that board for so long just watching the waves come in.  It was almost like it was a religious experience for her.  I sort of felt guilty taking this picture, like I was intruding on a sacred moment in her life.  

Anyways, back to my story.  After maybe 15 minutes of walking one way along the shore, I noticed that the girls had turned around and were walking towards me.  I continued to walk until I almost met them, and then turned around.  We walked mostly together and mostly silent, back the way we had come. 

It was then that I noticed my own footprints in the sand.  I knew the ones I was looking at were mine, because I know the design of the bottom of my chucks.  All of the footprints faced towards me, now that I was walking back.  It occurred to me in that moment that I had a physical reminder of where I had just been.  It got me thinking about where I had been.  Not just in the last 15 minutes, but in the last year...or 30.  

My mind wandered to daydreaming about being up in the sky and having an arial view of my life.  And what if I could look down and see all of my own footprints and where I had been throughout my life.  Wouldn't it be so interesting if we could do that?

I wondered for a minute where I would see my footprints go.  I wondered where I would find most of my them.  I wondered if there were would be footprints next to mine, representing the Savior or the Holy Ghost.  Or would my footprints be alone?  It never occurred to me that I would be carried by someone else, but I did wonder if their were times when I would see my footprints alone because I chose to walk alone. Maybe I told the Spirit that I knew he couldn't go with me, but I just wanted to see what was over there, and that I would be right back.  Did I ever do that?  Would I do that?  And if I did, would I keep my promise to come right back, or would I say away for a long time?  

We, in the church, talk about the Spirit leaving us when we make bad choices or live a life that is not worthy of the Spirit to dwell within us.  But does the Spirit really leave us, or do we leave him?  Do we leave him standing on the beach, telling him that we just want to take a few steps this way or that, even though we know he can't come with us, and that we will be right back?  Or that he is within sight, and therefore we won't be in danger. 

I also wondered as I walked, how heavy my feet would tread.  How long were my strides?  Was I walking or running?  Was I coming or going?  What direction would they be facing?  It also occurred to me that my footprints might be leading other people.  Would they be small people, like children?  Were they friends, or family, or strangers?   Would I be proud of the places I led them to?  Would my path be safe and happy?  Would I find my footprints in places I had not wished I had been?  Would I find more of them on the dance floors of clubs in than within the walls of the temple?  And what if I found that I was following someone else's footprints?  Where was I being led?  Did I chose the right individuals to lead me to places that were safe or where I wanted to be?  

Would I be able to see the emotional footprints I had tread in the hearts and minds of those I came in contact with?  Did I leave them better than when I met them?  Did I trample over people or pick them up? Was I there for others when their footprints seemed to be stumbling or sinking?  

And does repentance erase some of those footprints, or just "x" them out as if they no longer count?

I don't know if, after this life, we will get to see a run down of all the places we have been.  I do hope to improve my scorecard in the coming years, just in case we do.  I hope that I can remember my footprints in the sand when I am at the forks of life, whether big or small.  I hope I remember that the choices we make matter.