Do you remember the poem “Footprints in the Sand” by Mary Stevenson? If you were surrounded in Christian culture as I was growing up it seems you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing it. What a wonderful meaning and story to that poem.

I would have written “Footprints” a little differently than Mrs. Stevenson though. In my version Jesus and I would not be walking along the beach in the sand. Don’t get me wrong. I love the beach. I enjoy long walks in the sand.

However, I stumble along in this journey (a lot). Hence, the name of my blog. I’m not talking about the kind of stumble where you just momentarily lose your balance and quickly regain it. I’m talking about the kind of stumbling that ends up with a very ungraceful face plant. Sometimes when I fall I struggle and flail around trying to get back up. I leave more than just footprints. I leave whole prints of my head, my hands, my back, my everything. When I finally remember to reach for Jesus he is right there with a hand extended waiting to help me back up. Regardless, all the struggling sure does stir up lots of sand.

So what happens if I do all that in the sand? I end up with sand everywhere. I hate sand in my mouth and eyes. I hate sand getting inside my clothes. Sand in the clothes leads to sand in the . . . well let’s just say other places I hate to have it.

The point is that I would have to title my version of the poem “Footprints in the snow”. It might be a little cold and wet, but at least doesn’t leave me covered in sand.