Buttprints In the Sand
One night I had a wonderous dream
One set of footprints there was seen
The footprints of my precious Lord
But mine were not along the shore
But then some strange prints did appear
So I asked the Lord, "What have we here?"
Those prints are large and round and neat
And too large to be my feet.
"My child," he said in somber tone
For miles I carried you alone
I challenged you to walk in faith
But you refused and made me wait.
You disobeyed, you would not grow
The walk of faith, you would not know
So I got tired, I got fed up
And there I dropped you on your butt.
Because in life there comes a time
when one must fight and one must climb
When one must rise and take a stand
Or leave their buttprints in the sand.
I did not write this poem. My grandma Joy had this hanging on her fridge.
I thought I would share this with you all because she passed this year.
I love you grandma
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