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