These Feet

baby feet 1 JPGToday is my birthday. I woke up this morning thinking of my tiny footprints on the hospital certificate completed all those years ago. Then thoughts swirled through my mind of where these feet have traveled, literally and figuratively, for the past 52% of a century. So here’s my birthday introspection about my feet, in case you haven’t read a post about feet lately.

These feet were knit together nearly 53 years ago by God, but were designed before time began.

These feet were kissed by a tired but proud mother and father who welcomed their second baby girl after three baby boys.

These feet have worn brown patent leather, black and white saddle oxfords, rubber overshoes with white spats, slides with too-high wooden heels, dress pumps, and knock-off Nikes from Korea.

These feet have splashed through Missouri mud puddles and run barefoot across a portion of aptly-named Stone County.

These feet stepped on a snake’s tail, and were stung by a scorpion, pricked by thistles, and bruised by stones.

These feet have climbed trees, ladders, monkey bars, sand dunes, the Rocky Mountains (actually only part of one, not the whole chain), and Laundry Mountain (multiple times).

These feet have stomped in anger and kicked brothers (in defense, of course).

These feet have run in circles in the dirt around merry-go-rounds, climbed up hot metal slides, kicked off the ground on a teeter-totter, jumped out of swings, pounded on gym floors, bounced on  trampolines, and wobbled on balance beams.

These feet have experienced the feel of cold linoleum floors, stringy shag carpet, rough industrial carpet, and prickly AstroTurf.

These feet have walked on the lake bottom, squished in Gulf sand, and meandered on Michigan beaches.

These feet have rushed downstairs to greet a waiting boyfriend, and they have run upstairs to escape a maddening boyfriend.

These feet have crisscrossed a college campus in leisure and hurriedly sprinted to classes.

These feet have entered small town classrooms, churches, and stores, college dorms, work stations, and libraries.

These feet have slid on greasy fast food floors, ushered tourists to their music show seats, scurried around hotel rooms, and spent many hours under a legal secretary’s desk.

These feet walked a carpeted aisle to a waiting groom.

These feet have worn paths to a sick or scared child’s bed in the night.

These feet walked sadly through the ashes of our old house and joyfully through the sawdust of our new one.

These feet have trudged along in defeat, ran in victory, walked in pride, stood in faith, rested in grace, and walked in humility (but not often enough).

These feet have stood by too many caskets.

These feet carried me down a petal-strewn aisle beside my husband and oldest daughter to her tearful, waiting groom.

These feet have hurried to hospitals and rushed through emergency room doors.

These feet have ached with exhaustion and enjoyed comforting massages.

These feet have walked through trials, and they have walked in rebellion and in obedience.

These feet have pushed bike pedals, gas pedals, brake pedals, clutch pedals, sewing machine pedals, and piano pedals.

These feet have danced, walked, ran, jumped rope, clomped on stilts, and attempted a pogo stick.

These feet have been submersed in swimming pools, lake water, ocean water, and a small-town Missouri baptistry.

These feet have trembled in nervousness and timidly walked in fear.

These feet have tapped a beat and tapped in impatience.

These feet have stood outside an abortion clinic in humility and sadness.

These feet have been to many places they should’ve been and too many places they shouldn’t.

But I am thankful that now the steps of these feet are directed by God and He knows where they should go. When I’m too exhausted or discouraged to take a step, He carries me. And I rest.

Janice Powell 2015

 

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