LIFE RIGHT NOW â—½ YOU
If The Shoe Fits
by Jennifer Stephens
How many is too many? 10? 20? 72? Shoes, that is. What's the number that shifts a person from "normal footwear enthusiast" to "next level shoe hoarder?" Because I might be there.
So. Many. Shoes. Nothing fancy. No Jimmy Choo or Manolo’s. Mostly purchased on sale or discovered at a secondhand store. The other day I looked at my closet and noticed the previously organized stack of plastic bins neatly holding each pair was suddenly caught in a skirmish with a multi-hued pile of recently acquired sandals, sneakers, and stilettos. And it seemingly happened overnight. This absurd collection of tennis shoes, heels, flats, and boots had commandeered my side of the closet. What's with all the boots? Cowboy boots (Did I mention I live in the suburbs? Clearly, I don't really need 12 pairs). Snow boots. Combat boots (Glittery. Of course. They’re for fashion, not fighting). Cozy, Sherpa lined boots. And hiking boots. Hiking boots? I haven't hiked (i.e. sauntered down a practically paved path in Colorado) in yearsss.
Desperate to organize this disorderly mound of footwear, I purchased a couple inexpensive shelves and began the task of sorting into trash, donate, or keep. It didn't go well. Because other than one worn out pair of flip flops (trash) it seemed necessary to keep the rest. Yes, I might NEED the pair of red cowboy boots I purchased in the early '90's. And just because the four-inch heels I wore in my thirties are basically torture devices today, doesn't mean an occasion to squeeze into them Cinderella-style might not present itself. And a girl needs to be prepared for such a situation!
Maybe that's why we hold onto so many pairs of shoes. We never know when circumstances might call for the right pair. And we want to be ready. When I was teaching, I did a lesson with my class using shoes to help them understand and appreciate our differences. I'd haul in a bag of shoes, pulling out one pair at a time. The idea was to show them I chose shoes that fit my purpose (it wouldn't make sense to wear high heels hiking), interest (no soccer shoes - I don't like soccer), and comprehension (wearing my husband's giant shoes is silly - they're too big, and wearing baby shoes wouldn't work - they're too small). Through peals of laughter (watching their teacher stumble around in her husband's huge shoes or attempt to stuff her big toe into a baby shoe is top tier humor for six-year-olds) we made the connection that shoes can be like books. We learned choosing which book to read is like picking the right pair of shoes. We each need the ones that fit us best based on our purpose, interest, and ability.
In Ephesians 6, we read about putting on the armor of God so we'll be ready to resist the enemy when evil appears. We need to wear the belt of truth and the body armor of God's righteousness. We carry the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit. Our salvation is our helmet. And "for shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News so that you will be fully prepared."
Our metaphorical shoes.
Our most important shoes.
The shoes that fit us best.
Maybe it's foolish to hold onto those old red cowboy boots or ridiculously high heels when they'd be a better fit for somebody else...but I'm not ready to let them go. Even if they sit in the closet for another year or two. The thing is, that hoard of shoes doesn't really matter. As long as we wear the peace of knowing Jesus, we can put one foot in front of the other and tackle anything that comes our way. It's the pair we slide on each and every day. Forever. Walking in peace.
When we walk in the Good News, we arrive sure-footed. Confident. Prepared.