I was looking the other day at my yard shoes.  They are nothing fancy to be sure, just an old pair of sneakers that outlived their once other-functional life and were transformed to don my feet for everything from mowing my lawn to painting.  Truth be told, they are quite filthy.  Nasty even. They would likely elicit more than a casual glance if I were to wear them out in public.  They are that bad.  Who knows… Maybe I’ll try it one day for kicks.

It got me thinking… Shoes are such a status symbol.  How many times have you heard things like “Shoes make the dress” or just that subtle rub how unsophisticated one is if their shoes don’t match their purse (guilty as charged.)  My radar just doesn’t pick up all the ways I might be in violation of some unwritten culture code. 

There was a time in my earlier professional life, that I had more than a few pair of stylish pumps. It was nothing to slip on a pair of heels and click my way through my day all haughty and nice.  That’s what you do, right?  Funny how a decade or two or three will change a gal’s priorities in the shoe department. These days I go for comfort and a little lift, nowhere near the stilts or stilettos some gals still manage to squeeze their creaky toes into.  

It’s all about the feet now. 

The thing about feet is that they know things that our faces will never reveal.  They know how far we’ve come.  The ups and downs of our journeys. The bumps in the road.  They know what we’ve stood for.  They know who we’ve stood by.  They have danced and they have run in circles.  They’ve walked the fine lines of worry and faith. 

When Jesus was headed to the cross, on the night before He was crucified, He came to His disciples and told them that He would wash their feet before He left them.  The Son of God knelt and washed each podiatry pair of those that had served Him. He humbled Himself —  in love, in reverence — an act that was meant symbolically for what they were to do for others.  How astonishing this is.  He knew things that not even those closest to Him could know or understand.  

 My point to all of this, is that I am in a place in my life that I hate pretense.  We work so hard to look like we have more than others.  Not that I don’t like nice things.  I do — absolutely.  It’s just not that important to me anymore if there are little ponies on my shirts or initials on my purses or sunglasses.  I would rather know that my kids are okay and that I’ll have enough left over when my bills are paid to go to the movies once in a while or treat a friend or my family to an occasional good meal out. 

I’ve lived long enough to have loved people who would rather sit somewhere and impress a stranger on a stool than connect in a meaningful way with their kids, their spouse, their mom.  False personas are just so meaningless to me.  Some people trade all their blessings for the chance to lead  lives that they think make them look “wealthy” and “fun.”  They are bankrupt of all the things that count the most. 

I’m just saying how easily we have gotten things flipped.  It’s not what we wear on our outsides that make us beautiful or rich or acceptable — It’s not any of the things that the world would say make us successful or cool or even likable.  

It’s what we stand for.  It’s who we are when no one else is looking.  It’s being faithful and kind and approachable and authentic. It’s not being afraid to wear your ugly yard shoes out in public if you had to on a whim. 

I never mean to pretend to have all the answers.  I just have walked far enough in this life to know what really matters.   Some people worry so much about so little, and care so little about so much.

This saddens me.

Jesus washed the feet of the disciples so that we wouldn’t get this wrong.  So that we would value what is important. 

Maybe its as simple as taking a walk with a friend who needs an ear or taking your kid for a surprise mani-pedi just because you can.  Maybe it’s loving people even when they’ve hurt us.  Or simply doling out an extra helping of grace when you have the chance and need it for yourself..  

We are all in this life together.  Sometimes we need to walk a mile in each other’s shoes just to remember that the soul is more important than the sole.

And if you should ever see a middle age gal sprinting through the grocery aisle in her dirty old yard shoes on a Saturday, please don’t hesitate to say hello.  There’s pretty good chance it’s me.