I was looking at the journey of my life,
there was one scene that seemed to be in desert.
“God,” I asked, “What’s up with the area in the sand
that has ashes and small holes in the ground.”
“My dear Lisa,” He replied, “That’s where you set up camp —
refusing to go on with your journey because you were comfortable with where you were.
You had everything you needed.
To leave would mean you wouldn’t know what was next,
requiring you to have faith and to trust me with your future.”
“I’m a little curious, which I know you know,
I noticed that before the campsite, there are a bunch of footsteps;
It looks like they’re going back and forth.”
“Lisa, I don’t know why, but you like to visit the past,
surprisingly you didn’t set up a camp there too.
To finish this journey you need to fix your eyes on ME.”
“Would you be willing to explain to me why there is only one set of footprints after the campsite.
The imprint in the sand is kind of weird: like you were pulling something.
“Oh Lisa — not pulling, rather dragging.
That’s where I had to drag you, kicking, screaming, and complaining
out of your campsite of complacency.
You wouldn’t even let me carry you.
Because I love you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you moving.
My presence will go with you. I’ll see your journey to the end.”
Footprints in the Sand by Mary Stevenson