Let Me See Your Feet

A couple days ago, I pulled out my old NIV study Bible and found it chuck full of my thoughts written down on sticky notes, envelopes, yellow lined paper and scribblings in margins telling a story about places I have been, discoveries I've made and days gone by. I didn't want to lose them so I'm writing a few of them here.

Feet #1

A Story About Dave

"Let me see your feet." Those words were spoken every time Dave and I visited his mom and dad. Off came the shoes and socks. Out came the salves, bandaids, dressings, clippers, files and lotions. For the next 30-60 minutes, Mom and Dad's feet were reviewed, reorganized, contemplated and prioritized. I remember Dave on his hands and knees rummaging through his supplies, up and down, up and down, in and out of the bathroom retrieving this and that. A lot of activity! He touched and rubbed and soothed every inch of 20 toes, fussing over pink and wounded flesh. Occasionally a yip would fly out of Mom's mouth when the nursing got a little aggressive on her bad big toe. What I really remember though is how much they enjoyed the whole process of being doted over and meticulously tended to by their son. Their son. He did this thing for them with ease and skill that dumbfounded me. Even the foot doctor told him that he had missed a calling. I can still see the picture in my mind today: Ben and Eva, sox off, arms folded on chests, being loved by their son.

Old Feet 

Feet in places they should not be,

Sloshing and slipping breeds a breakable me.

Falling into deep and deeper walled up places.

Caught. 

Afraid and getting frantic. 

Feet in places they ought not be. 

How came we here, little feet?

Why surprised old feet?

Foolish feet!

Why walk this way?

The same crooked path 
runs to the same dead end.

Find a new path. 

The way to climb out of this pit.

Find the anchor, the rock, the truer map. 

Find the builder of the better path.

New Feet 

I have a love who is a shepherd. 

Trusted and true. 
This love and I, we hold hands, walk and talk. 
Just walk and talk.

I am watching me, with him loving me.

Looking down at four feet walking, 
I get the idea to walk my feet onto his 

and hold on tight so we can dance.

Where he steps, I step. 
We are one person traveling along. 

Doing a weightless, effortless dance. 
It feels so light. Moving light and easy. 
Like floating.

Let's sit and rest for a while. 

The place is soft and green and gently quiet here. 

He is brushing my hair. 
Just brushing my hair.

"How are things with you?" wonders my Shepherd Love.

"I've been a little afraid. 
People don't seem to like me too much.

Some places I'm afraid to go now.

I feel like someone is plotting something mean against me."

"Well, let me show you how I see things."

From out of a pack, suddenly tumble 
hundreds and hundreds of photographs,

 picture after picture of me with him. 

He is in every picture with me. He is us.

Everywhere is safe. Every place a dance. 

We are one person traveling along together.