Footprints in the Sand

We’ve heard it said, “Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.” To be absurdly literal, “what if they’re not wearing shoes?”

I recently had a “footprints in the sand” moment on the beach. I’m sure most of us are familiar with the religious poem by that title. If not, it goes something like this. A man has a dream that he is walking on a beach with God. Scenes from his life flash across the sky and he notices that there are usually two sets of footprints in the sand—one belonging to him and the other to God. However, during the most trying moments of his life, only one set of footprints is seen. Confused and thinking God has abandoned him just when he needed Him most, he asks God about it. God responds, “during your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

My experience was a bit different but no less moving.

Two little boys were frolicking in the surf. A man ahead of me called out to them and then continued on his way. A woman was walking in front of him. The man was directly behind her, about six feet between them. On a busy, city street, six feet is sufficient “personal space,” but on a vast, uncrowded beach just after sunrise, that’s a bit close. So I figured they knew each other. However, she never once looked back over her shoulder at him and he never rushed to catch up with her. That seemed a bit unusual. Trouble in paradise, perhaps?

I watched as he slowly made his way behind her. Her footprints first, then his own, slightly to the side of hers. Suddenly, his gait changed. He began fitting his feet into her footprints. This is no easy feat (no pun intended). I’ve tried it many times. Even when your stride seems to match the footprints, after a few steps, you realize you are out of sync again. There is something unique about our gait. Perhaps that is why I can always tell who is coming toward me, even if they are too far away to be seen clearly—I recognize the way they walk. As difficult as it might have been, this guy persisted. There was something beautiful about his focus and determination.

As a young girl, I would often accompany my mom to the train station to pick up my dad after work. Even before I saw his face, I’d see his feet coming down the steps and then walking toward the car. His feet, even after all these years, always land perfectly straight on the ground, facing forward. But just before they touch the ground, there is this barely perceptible moment during “swing phase”—the time the foot is completely in the air—when one foot sways out to the side for a microsecond before straightening and landing on the ground with no “out-toeing.”

There was a time I thought that might have been due to his ankle holster. He was a police officer, but he worked at Police Headquarters and wore suits, not a uniform. He sometimes wore an ankle holster with his gun on the inside of his left leg. However, I soon came to notice that I, my brother, and my sister (all without guns strapped to our ankles) have a similar way of walking. (I’m not sure they are aware of it. I tend to keep my mad musings to myself.) My mom, on the other hand, is a bit “duck-footed.” Physiology or ballet in early childhood? Not sure.

So back to the guy on the beach. He’s focusing on walking in the woman’s footprints. As I said…not an easy thing to do. Just as difficult, say, as walking a mile in another’s shoes. He’s much taller than she is and so his stride is now much different than his natural one. This allows me to catch up to him.

We greet each other and I ask if they are together. He hesitates a microsecond before responding yes. My spidey senses may be accurate—yes, they are together (i.e., partners), but they are not “together” in this particular moment (i.e., disagreement).

I say, I don’t know if you realized it, but your footprints started out next to hers and then, all of a sudden, you began walking in her footprints until there was just one set. It was a cool effect. The guy raises his eyebrows and emits a hearty laugh of surprise. I continue on my merry way. I hope their day turns out merry, too.

As I walk, I ponder the scene I have just witnessed. My mind can’t help but veer toward A Course in Miracles, which says our perception that we are many, separate beings is an illusion; in reality, in our true state of being, we are one. Many times, I see metaphors in the physical realm that seem to point to Truth in the spiritual realm. I let my mind run with it.

On the surface, they have had a disagreement. They are now separate, as we all are in this physical realm, though they may be feeling it a bit more acutely in the moment. Subconsciously, however, there is an awareness that we aren’t really separate at all. Despite the chasm between them, he instinctively begins to fit his feet into her footsteps, making it look to anyone behind them that two people have suddenly merged into one. I sometimes think we’ve built such “escape hatches” into the insane fabric of this world to help us remember Truth at difficult times.

There is still a small gap between them emotionally and physically. She still hasn’t looked back. He still hasn’t attempted to catch up. But in that one small shift in gait and placement of feet, perhaps he is remembering the Truth.

It is at this moment I think of that old, religious poem and rewrite it in my mind:

Two people were walking on a beach. After a grievance, one rushed ahead, not looking back. The other lagged behind, not attempting to catch up. Two separate sets of footprints could be seen in the sand. Then a gentle breeze provided a moment of relief from the insane heat of the day.…

.…It was then that one put their feet in the footprints the other had made and, in a holy instant, remembered “we are one.”

With love and peace,

Margaret