{"id":18131,"date":"2026-03-27T10:18:25","date_gmt":"2026-03-27T15:18:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sandiherron.com\/blog\/?p=18131"},"modified":"2026-07-21T08:13:53","modified_gmt":"2026-07-21T13:13:53","slug":"footprintsonthesandsoftime","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sandiherron.com\/blog\/footprintsonthesandsoftime\/","title":{"rendered":"Memories: Footprints on the Sands of Time"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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A Life Given Becomes a Legacy Lived<\/strong><\/h2>\n

Some gifts are wrapped in paper. Others are wrapped in time, sacrifice, and daily love. The greatest influence we will ever have often comes not from grand moments, but from faithfulness of our hearts in the places God assigns us.<\/p>\n

Like \"footprints in the sand,\" our actions may fade from sight, but their impact is carried in the lives of others for generations to come.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>

\"Looking<\/span><\/div>

The Keepsake Box<\/strong><\/h2>\n

While searching through an old keepsake box for pictures of my teen years, I discovered something I thought I had lost. In the bottom of the box, underneath an empty potato chip bag from a Herman Hermit\u2019s concert in the mid-\u201960s, was a poem. It was given as a gift many years ago by my 9th grade English teacher.<\/p>\n

Gently lifting the folded piece of paper, I recalled the impact it had on me as a young girl. Even though it remained tucked away through the many phases of my life, the words of the poem are as clear in my mind today as it was the day the author read it to our class.<\/p>\n

The poem was typed on a manual typewriter, then printed using a mimeograph machine. The ink has long ago faded and the paper that was once a bright white has now turned to the color of soft candlelight. The page is wrinkled with time and the top corner is torn.<\/p>\n

Sitting on the floor, I tenderly unfolded the paper and began to read the words, line by line. As tears ran down my face, I understood the meaning of the poem so much more than I did as a young girl. Through the words of the poem, I see the heart of the author, his love for his students and life itself. But now, as I read it later in my years, I understand he was facing a change in life, and it meant leaving behind a part of himself. He wrote this poem as a gift to us, his students, but the gift was not the words on the paper as I thought so many years ago. It was much more. It was his heart, given day after day, moment by moment. I am sure there were days it was easier to give than others. As I looked at the faded words on the page, I realize that the man who faithfully taught ninth grade English, gave more to me than just a love for literature and writing. He gave his heart.<\/p>\n

There is a part of the poem that touched my heart many years ago, but I didn\u2019t fully understand the depth of his words until now.<\/p>\n

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\u201cThe world looks bright today from out my room,<\/p>\n

But soon it will be empty as the darkest tomb,<\/p>\n

\u2018Tis sad that I shall never retrace these steps again,<\/p>\n

Nor share the laughs, smiles, heartaches, and grins.<\/p>\n

Yes, memories are like footprints on the sands of time,<\/p>\n

They may be erased but our lives to them we bind,<\/p>\n

Memories! Memories! Memories! How my life to them cling,<\/p>\n

And my heart beats loud until my soul doth sing.<\/p>\n

The desk is silent now, the room is quiet, except for soft sunlight,<\/p>\n

The moon comes up at dark and kisses the empty room by night,<\/p>\n

But gone from the room is all noises of human sound,<\/p>\n

As this teacher\u2019s footfalls no longer rebound.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Thank you to Mr. Gerald C. Freeman, the 9th Grade English Teacher at Greenwood Jr. High in 1966, the author of this poem he so lovingly named, \u201cMemories.\u201d\u00a0I wonder if he ever knew what an impact he made on so many young lives?<\/p>\n

Mr. Freeman was one of the giants in my education journey, especially inspiring me to become a writer. If I could step back in time and once again walk into his classrom, I\u00a0 would thank him for this heartfelt poem, but more than that, I would thank him for loving and teaching his students about life, and through example, showing us that giving your all to something makes a difference.<\/p>\n

With the help of my Jr. High school friends, we were able to get in touch with Mr. Freeman\u2019s wife. Sadly, we learned that he passed away in 2008.<\/p>\n

After speaking with Mrs. Freeman, I learned much about Mr. Freeman, his family and their years in ministry and missions. He was a great man who lived a life on purpose. He completed his journey and left a legacy that will never be forgotten. He was an inspiration to all who knew him.<\/p>\n

Mr. and Mrs. Freeman's daughter, Joy, was killed in an auto accident in 2013 at the age of 17. She, much like her parents, had a heart for missions and to serve the people of Costa Rica was her desire. Please go LIKE their ministry page, \u201cThe Hands of Joy,\u201d that provides and enables missionaries to Costa Rica.\u00a0 There are several ways you can be a part of this ministry and help continue the love of missions that is the heart of the Freeman family. \u201cGIVE JOY TO GET JOY! A ministry of Costa Rica Missions\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>

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Pause and Reflect<\/strong><\/h2>\n