Footprints in the Sand (Unedited)

ONCE I HAD a dream that I was walking along the beach with my Lord. I felt self-conscious about wearing a two-piece swimsuit, but I didn’t know the Lord was going to be at Rehoboth Beach during spring break.

God said, Don’t worry about it, Jenna. Purity culture is so 2008.

Suddenly, scenes of my life flashed before me along the shoreline. I looked back at the footprints in the sand. In most scenes, there were two sets of footprints: Mine and God’s. God is a size 8.5 and has high arches, in case you were wondering. But then I noticed something troubling. At many of the hard times in my life, there was only one set of footprints.

When I needed you the most, why did you leave me? I asked God, with more sass than I’d like to admit. God whispered something in return, but I couldn’t hear the words. It’s really loud at the beach, and there was a sand volleyball game nearby. So then God yelled, I never left you! When you saw only one set of footprints, that was when I carried you.

I was so relieved. Sorry for the mix-up, I said to God. I also wear size 8.5, so I was confused.

But then I noticed something even more troubling.

Okay, God, but look right there! How come there is only one set of footprints and then a bunch of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and then NO FOOTPRINTS AT ALL? When I needed you most, why were you snacking?

God sighed, in a kinda annoyed way. That was a really bad time in your life. After a particularly messy breakup, you went to the beach with a bottle of wine and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. You started offering the seagulls the Hot Cheetos, which they were enthusiastic about at first, thinking that these were the original Cheetos or Trader Joe’s Baked Cheese Crunchies. Soon, as the seagulls began to feel the salty heat on their tongues, they retaliated and began nosediving toward you. I had to mount you on my shoulders and fly us away on your beach towel. You started singing songs from Aladdin. It was, honestly, really inappropriate.

I apologized profusely. God and I walked in silence for a bit until I noticed one final set of suspicious footprints. Hold on now, God, there are only one set of footprints here, and I know they’re not yours, because they are clearly the round, clunky shape of clogs, which I know you wouldn’t be caught dead in because of your brand loyalty to Birkenstocks.

In response, God smiled. You’re right, Jenna. Those are your shoe prints. I stepped on a jellyfish, so you actually gave me a piggyback ride. I was really grateful until you challenged some fraternity bros to a chicken fight in the ocean.