feet

I woke up one day. I got dressed and shuffled out the door. Weary, tired, and bored. During a seemingly insignificant moment (a meeting sandwich) I looked down at my feet in wonder.   What are these feet doing here- in these shoes? Where are they going?  Do these shiny heels draped by my uniform black slacks point to the passion that lay in my deepest parts? Does it tell the story of a lost girl turn fierce woman who battled against all odds to get here?...Only to want to go home and do anything other than this? Really would I rather clean toilets at home than go in there telling people who don’t care that they should? I wondered if my feet could tell another story…the story of one who arches her feet on to her tippy-toes so that her stature wouldn’t deafen her voice. The story of one who refused to walk in those nasty generational footsteps and fought- still fights to move forward with every breath. Her voice is loud and sharp- but does anyone see the naked ache in her soles? Does anyone see her longing to dance freely without fear- to dance freely with the God given passion that drives her forward yet sometimes drives her mad? Passion? Does anyone let their passion drive them? Does anyone hear the silent tiptoe of excitement creeping up that makes them open their weary eyes and say “today is the day!”?  And do they respond? Or do they do as I do, and shut it out, shut it down. Do they say, like I do that it is too hard or doesn’t make sense and therefore must be wrong? Does anyone else look at their feet and wonder if their feet have climbed mountains and are blessed only to feel tripped up by the hills? I looked up and took a step forward…into my reality wondering if my steps have purpose, if my words have purpose, if I am living in my purpose.

How beautiful on the mountains
    are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
    who bring good tidings,
    who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
    “Your God reigns!”  Isaiah 52:7 (NIV)