Ponderings of a Broken Shoe

Freedom's dirty little feet.  I love them.  

We went to the Dollar Theater last week and on our way home saw a man walking with a considerable limp.  Freedom wondered why he was walking like that.  I looked over and noticed one shoe was cut.  From the small glance I could get while driving, I assumed he had some sort of defect that caused that foot to be large.  I guessed he had cut the shoe so his foot would fit.  I pointed out the purposefully broken shoe.  Freedom wanted to know more about this man.  I shared my guesses that the man was poor and unable to get some sort of shoe that fit properly.

Fast forward 4 days.  Driving home from gymnastics, Freedom and I are the only ones in the car.  "Mom, I know what it feels like to have shoes that don't fit because you are poor," Freedom starts a conversation.

"Really, how do you know?" I ask.

"Well, I put my shoes on in a certain so they didn't fit right.  It makes me think about God.  He is with me where ever I go.  He is not like the shoe that needs to be cut.  If my house gets bombed or something, I will remember that.  I will think about God."

He didn't say it exactly, but I think he's right on.  We might lose our shoes or our homes, but God always fits us and He's always with us.  No one or nothing can separate us from our God.

We talk more.  God gave us shoes and homes.  What are we supposed to do with them?  Freedom thought maybe we were supposed to cut them.  I told him I don't think so.  But then again, when I come home and read this http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/06/why-you-are-where-you-are-for-such-a-time-as-this/  I think again about what it means to "cut" MY shoes ... to "cut" MY home.

The words of St. Augustine that I read earlier today ring in my ears, "But I had now found the goodly pearl; and I ought to have sold all that I had and bought it -- yet I hesitated." 

Still stuck.  Still seeking.  Still sobbing.