There is no doubt that the imagery and faith conveyed in the poem, “Footprints in the Sand”, are beautiful, personal revelations by the author. I am positive that many people have found consolation and hope via this poem. In fact, I have found inspiration by reading this poem in times of difficulty.
So why do I say my experience has been different from the warm and fuzzy ending? When I have spoken with people about this, I usually get a laugh and a comment, “That’s twisted.” So be warned.
When I have been carried, I have not necessarily gone quietly. I was probably carried in a fireman’s hold because I was kicking and screaming. I could have been carried, well, dragged which would have left a stream of lines and footprints, indicating I was trying to run away. I was carried like a rebellious child throwing a tantrum because I didn’t like what was ahead of me. I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to deal with it.
It? What is “it”?
I certainly didn’t volunteer to be a mother of two autistic teens, let alone of four kids with disabilities at one point. I didn’t want to mourn a child lost in a miscarriage. I could list a myriad of issues and problems. Alas, everyone has things to handle, and everyone’s ability to do so varies. So who’s to judge what is a hard life or who’s problems are bigger?
I like happy endings. I root for the underdog. I like things simply stated. I acknowledge what is left unsaid. Some things just can’t be expressed through words. Both love and pain make us grow, whether we want to or not. The only solution I see is trust in the Good Lord, whichever way he carries us. It’s an act of faith that gives me hope.
sherylscript 