Butt-Prints in the Sand
One night I had a wondrous dream,
A set of prints on the sand was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord,
Yet mine were not along the shore.
But then a stranger print appeared.
I asked the Lord, “What have we here?
This print is large and round and neat,
But Lord, it’s just too big for feet.”
“My child,” He said in somber tones,
“For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to seek my face,
Take up your cross and walk in grace.”
You disobeyed, you would not grow.
You would no stand against the flow.
Your neck was stiff, your ears were shut,
So there I dropped you on your butt.”
“Because in life there comes a time,
When one must fight, when one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave one’s butt-prints in the sand.”