Can You Feel Your Toes?

I got a new pair of church shoes. Aren't they cute? ;o) I think the bow at the top is my favorite part. And yes, those are my daughter's feet in them, even cuter! ;o) However, let me just say after wearing them for about two and a half hours on Sunday, I remembered an old saying of my momma's about shoes... "Some shoes are for 'pretty', not for 'comfort'."

I did fairly well through all the walking around before church service getting the girls here and there to their classes and saying 'hello' to so 'n so and so 'n so. I made it through most of praise and worship standing and tapping my foot to the beat. I even managed to be respectful during prayer time and stand still without fidgeting... well, not too much fidgeting. :o)

I think what sent me over the edge was sitting down for the message our minister gave. See, at times my feet still think they are pregnant even though that was a few years ago and when I sit in church and cross my legs, they begin to swell... and get red... and swell... and get red. Also, the triple digit weather we've had all summer doesn't help these kinds of situations. I looked down about halfway through the message and thought, "Oh brother, I'm in trouble."  The tops of my feet were beginning to be cherry red and they were beginning to look like the wicked stepsister's feet in Cinderella -  you know, when she tries to fold her gargantuan foot in half and stuff it into the glass slipper and um... well, you can see for yourself. ;o)

Yep! That was what my foot looked like! I swear it!

When the pastor asked us to stand for prayer and a closing song at the end, I obeyed. I winced with pain, but I still obeyed. I literally couldn't feel my toes, the tops of the shoes were digging into my foot flesh and cutting off the precious blood supply to my necessary-for-walking appendage. I did show respect, but what I really wanted was to kick the shoes from my feet and desperately massage my poor little dawgs back into the land of all the other living feet. After dismissal, I used the excuse of gathering Bibles to be able to sit down again and psych myself up for the walk to my girls' classes and then to the car. Never had this short walk looked like such an insurmountable task... sigh.

I took very short steps and tried to mask the pain with a forced smile to anyone who came close. I gathered my girls and ushered them to the door. We made it to the car and I removed the shoes as quickly as gently would allow. As I surveyed the damage, I thought perhaps I might have done it this time. My toes looked to be in a permanent squooshed together position that only a surgical procedure could correct. The indentions on the tops of my feet were something akin to the depressions sofa legs make on fluffy carpet. Sheesh. Also, my frequent pain in the area called "great toe joint" was even more frequent than usual! I told my girls we would be going home for lunch this particular Sunday and after caving in to the pleadings from the backseat for take out, I found myself at home, shoeless - feet able to breathe again. Ahhh, it's good to have breathing feet... :o)

I don't know why, but the thing that popped into my odd little brain was the passage of Scripture that goes something like this...

How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the gospel of peace,
      Who bring glad tidings of good things!” - Romans 10:15

While I'm quite certain my feet would not have been considered beautiful or any synonym thereof at that present moment, it still reminded me of this Scripture! Yes, I know... it's weird.

Peace... ahhh! Like my feet needing to breathe, my heart needs the peace that passes all understanding. Otherwise it begins to swell with all the panic, anger and stress that comes with a heart not completely surrendered to Jesus Christ. Peace is my heart's remedy for a too-tight fit of this world's disquiets. He is my Peace... and He loves my new shoes too! ;o)