I had a dream.
No doubt caused by a glass or two too much wine.
Please . . . let that be the well-spring of my dream.
I was at the beach. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and I was the only soul around as far as you could see. A gentle breeze was blowing off the azure water, and it filled the air with fresh, ocean smells. Seagulls, albatrosses, penguins and dodo birds were cooing and scrambling about, and dolphins were frolicking in the waves.
I already told you this was a dream, so don’t get on my case about penguins and dodo birds, okay?
Where was I?
The beach. And I was looking down at the sand, just above the place where the waves come scroochin’ up and wipe everything clean. And lo’ n’ behold, there were footprints etched there. Two sets of prints, to be precise. One set looked about the size my naked feet would make. The other set of footprints was actually a set of bootprints, and quite a bit larger than mine. (If I had to guess, I’d say it was probably close to a size twelve, but that really has nothing to do with the dream.)
Anyway, I follow the prints as they meander along the beach, and suddenly the naked footprints, the ones that are my size, just stop, but the other prints, the boots, keep trudging along. And here’s something kinda’ weird; off to the side of the bootprints, at the point where the naked footprints stop, another print begins, only this print was like somebody was dragging a stick in the sand.
Go figure.
I stood there, my hand shielding the sunshine from my eyes, following the bootprints with my gaze for as far as I could see, and they just went on and on.
“Nice day, huh?”
I nearly crapped myself I was so startled.
I hadn’t heard anybody come creeping up from behind, but somebody was obviously standing there, so I turned around real quick and tried to not look surprised.
But surprised I was.
Standing smack dab in front of me was Someone who needed no introduction. For whatever reason, I immediately recognized Him.
“Lord?” I whispered.
“William,” He nodded and smiled. “It’s a gorgeous day, don’t you think?”
“I . . . I . . . you . . . “
Stammering was about the best I could manage at the moment.
The Lord gave my shoulder a few reassuring pats.
“That’s okay,” He kindly interjected. “I get that a lot.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, slapped myself a couple of times and tried to shake the cobwebs out of my brains.
“What . . . uhh . . . ?”
“You want to know what’s going on, right?” He asked.
Since I wasn’t doing so well verbalizing things, I simply rattled my head up and down.
He put his arm around my shoulder and led me a little ways up the beach to where the sand was warm and dry.
“Let’s sit down here for a bit while I elucidate.”
We plopped down onto a little mound of comfy sand and watched the dolphins and penguins cavort. After some little time, the Lord leaned back on one elbow.
“Okay,” He began, “the long and short of it is, you died a couple of minutes ago.”
I jerked my head around in mid-cavort gazing.
“I WHAT?” I nearly shouted. “HOW? WHY? WHA . . . ?”
After a couple of long, slow breaths, I was able to compose myself.
“Lord,” I said as calmly as I could, “I don’t understand. I was just walk—”
“Walking down the street,” He interrupted, “minding your own business and blah, blah, blah. I know, William. That’s how it often happens.”
I thought about that for a while.
“But how?”
“Well, if you really must know . . . ” He said somewhat hesitantly as He looked down at the sand, ” . . . uhh . . . well, a piano fell on you. It wasn’t very pretty.”
I sat up shock straight.
“A PIANO?” I shouted incredulously. “I got mashed by a PIANO? Was THAT the best you could do?”
He held my stare for a few seconds, and when He couldn’t hold it any longer, He broke into a huge guffaw.
“NOOOOOOO,” He managed to say between laughs, “Noooo, I’m just pulling your leg! You got hit by a bus.”
I sat there, gape-jawed, as He laughed and laughed. To say the least, I was more than a little numb from just getting psych’d by the Lord of Hosts.
“I don’t really appreciate being the brunt of your joke,” I said after a pause. It came out more petulant than I had intended, but there you go.
The Lord stopped laughing and looked at me, His eyes filled with mirthful tears.
“The brunt of My joke?” he repeated. “You ever been to Australia?”
And once again the strand’s quietude was filled with the sound of His belly-whoop laughter.
I had to admit, that was something I had long suspected, and try as I might, I couldn’t hold back my own guffaws.
When we finally got all our laughs out and had settled back down, we dried our eyes with our sleeves and silently watched the waves as they broke and plashed and lapped up the sand. It brought something to mind.
“Lord, can I ask you a question?”
“That’s why I’m here, William,” he replied. “What’s on your mind?”
I thought about that for a moment, then cast a somewhat quizzical look His way.
“You already know, don’t you?” I stated more than asked.
He looked at me with indescribable kindness.
“I am Who I am.”
I smiled and nodded and scooped up some sand in my hand. As I watched the tiny grains sift through my fingers, the beach sounds slowly faded to the background of my senses.
“There are prints in the sand out there,” I began, tossing a nod in the direction of the footprints. “Two sets. I’m pretty sure one set, the smaller, barefoot one, is mine. But the other prints aren’t from naked feet; they’re bootprints. I followed their path, and then all of a sudden, the barefoot prints stop, but the bootprints keep going. That’s where you startled me.”
I gave Him a quick look.
“Totally unintended,” He said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I was just kinda’ lost in my thoughts at the time. Anyway, where my footprints stop, another print, like a stick dragging in the sand, starts, and the boot and stick prints just keep going. I couldn’t see far enough to see where they ended.”
It was the Lord’s turn to scoop some sand into His hand. I watched as He tipped his palm slightly and slowly poured the grains back where they came from. It was then I noticed the terrible scar, but I said nothing.
“They don’t end, William.”
I stared at His face.
“I don’t understand, Lord,” I replied. “How can the footprints not end? And why do mine disappear?”
The Lord turned His gaze to the horizon, then slightly lifted his chin to catch the full warmth of the sun on His face.
“Those footprints represent your life, William,” He began. “And I was there by your side every step of the way. You did your best to walk that path, but when you couldn’t take another step, I threw you over my shoulder and carried you.”
I contemplated what He said, then scratched at my head.
“But what about the boots, Lord” I asked. “I don’t understand why you—”
And at that moment, as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, I saw the black camo pants and shirt, and the combat boots.
My jaw flopped open and sand blew into my open maw.
“WHAT!——cough-cough——IS GOING!——cough——ON?” I tried to say as I choked on and spat out the grit.
I have no idea why I hadn’t noticed His attire before, but now that it was plain to see, it really disturbed me.
“Lord, what happened to the robes and sandals?” I whispered just above the sound of the surf pounding and hissing in the distance.
The Lord got up from the sand and brushed His pants.
“Times change, William,” He explained. “That was then, this is now.”
I stood up and began pacing back and forth in the sand.
“Lord,” I said as I paced, “I need to know . . . I THINK I need to know . . . oh, GOD, do I really wa—”
“Don’t blaspheme,” He gently reminded.
I stopped my pacing for a tic.
“What? Oh . . . sure . . . I’m sorry.”
My head began to hurt.
“Okay . . . I probably don’t want to know the answer . . . but . . . what was that other print in the sand . . . the stick-dragging one?”
The Lord was standing, staring at the horizon, His left side hidden from my view. He turned His head and looked at me, then reached across His chest and grabbed a strap that was draped over his left shoulder.
“That wasn’t a stick, William,” He replied. “When I picked you up and threw you over my shoulder, I had to move this first. I just dragged it in the sand next to me.”
At this He lifted the strap, pulled the assault rifle from His shoulder and held it up for me to see.
If my eyes had bugged out any farther, they would have popped out of my skull. I started shaking.
“HOW, HOW, HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE???” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
My brain began throbbing, my tongue started to go numb and hot tears of rage spilled down my cheeks as I dropped to my knees in the sand.
“LOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRD???” I shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?”
I tumbled into the sand and trembled and wept.
He walked over to me and knelt.
“You’ll get used to the notion, William,” He said as he gently stroked my head. “Some folks just need more time than others, but you’ll be okay by and by.”
“B-b-but Lord,” I said between sobs, “t-t-this is s-so different. You carry a gun?”
The Lord patted His hip and nodded.
“More than one, truth be told. And so will you, just as soon as we get you around the next bend and up to the Pearly Gates. Peter’s been anticipating your arrival for quite some time, and trust me, you can’t even imagine the arsenal he’s put together for you.”
I couldn’t stop shivering.
“But how could we have been so wrong,” I pleaded. “Why weren’t we told the truth about all this?”
The Lord stood up and re-shouldered the weapon.
“Are you kidding?” He replied. “Lots of people know the truth, especially in that country you came from. They know this is how I roll, and they follow my example without hesitation. Granted, the Church hasn’t been doing a very good job getting this particular message out there, but thankfully, I’ve always had other, really-true believers and their organizations to intercede on my behalf.”
I looked up at Him, puzzled.
“I don’t understand, Lord.”
The Prince of Peace bent down, gently helped me to my feet and brushed the sand from my pants.
“What,” He replied, “You never heard of the NRA?”
My jaw dropped and I could only stare at Him as He looked out at the ocean, then all along the beach . . . and then . . . finally, back at me. He saw that — with the exception of one, frail fool spilling tears everywhere — it was good.
“Well, we’d better start walking. I hate to keep Peter waiting, you know. He’s still got that nasty temper.”
He shifted the sling over His shoulder and headed off into the distance, but before He had passed beyond my sight, I saw Him turn His head, and heard, as if He whispered in my ear,
“I almost forgot . . . welcome to heaven, William.”
I screamed, and as the tears poured from my eyes, I once again collapsed to my knees and beat the sand with my fists.
And I awoke.
