I’ve seen them before. His skin is bronze and wrinkled. Long white sleeves are pushed to the elbows. A bucket swings beside him. Sand darkens around each footprint left behind. He is closest to the mighty waves. Today, beside him socks are pulled to the knees. Hands offer to help assist with fishing paraphernalia. The likeness of the faces is apparent, his son. Beside the son walks a young lady. Soft features grace her face as she offers words of encouragement and support.
But, as you know, I have viewed part of this previously. Same man, the one lugging the bucket. Same footprints, yet different companions. This other young man claimed the same physical features, yet different. His skin was marked by tattoos, face hardened from I know not what. Yet animated speech had emitted from him as he went on about his life. Beside him had trudged a young woman who was the proud owner of a protective wall that could be sensed a mile away.
Two different pictures with the same man. I don’t know their life story, but as I sat watching the waves wash away the current footprints, I thought about my Papa. My Heavenly Father who loves us where we are and requires us to move forward. Yet, he delights in variety. I’m grateful for His agape love!
