I watched a little Amish girl skipping down her driveway the other day … with no shoes on. I mean, come on — rocks, pebbles, dirt. If I’m walking around the house in just my socks, I will invariably find something to step on … and it hurts!
I’ve always needed something on my feet. My feet are sensitive. About the only time I don’t wear anything on my feet is when I’m at the beach — the soft, white sandy beach — and when I sleep.
The little Amish girl wasn’t alone. Many little kids are happy as clams with nothing on their feet. My girls and wife also didn’t like to wear shoes either, come to think about it, and my granddaughters shed their shoes whenever they can. Hmm. Maybe it’s a gender thing.
It got me to thinking. We all are different. We have feet. hands, minds … but we use them differently. Some are sensitive, some are calloused, some are sharp, some need extra processing. Sort of what Scripture is talking about when it refers to different parts of a body, each with a distinct role to play to make us whole.
What do you think?
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: About the time you think you can make ends meet, somebody moves the ends.
My wife reminded me of her father’s war torn and work hardened callous hands, and how that represented to her his ‘labor of love’ as it were; reminds me of a man who made a comment about the baptist, and how he spoke of his lack of ‘soft clothing,’ he probably had rough hands and feet as well. But how beautiful are the feet of they which carry the gospel….
You wrote about feet, and here is a remark about hands, but I see that image of the little girl with not a care in the world, would to God I learn that a bit better.
Hands work as well … they reflect our toil and our labor of love. May we all learn that a bit better.