Everytime I come across the poem "Footprints", the same image comes to my head: the poem’s narrator is actually an Indian tracker and instead of accepting God’s promise blindly, he drops down and inspects the single set of prints.
      “This set is deep enough for two. And you had thirty seven cents in your pocket. Hmm — looks like two dimes, three nickels, and two pennies. Your story checks out Big Dog.”
      He pops up and gives Jehovah the Shooter-McGavin-double-thumb-shooters and they keep strolling.