Shoes

Things that went right today:

1) Three year old stayed dry all night. I think potty training is officially accomplished.

2) Last orthodontist appointment for my 13 year old son. 4 down...5 to go.

3) Got a TON of laundry done...at last clean towels.

I wrote this essay for a church writer's workshop a couple of years ago, but it kind of goes along with the thoughts I am having today so I thought I would cheat and reprint this:

They say that clothes make the man. I guess you could also say that shoes make the woman...or at least, like Cinderella's glass slipper, they can reflect who she is and who she may become. Funny then that most women have so very many shoes. We're complex creatures aren't we? With countless nuances and missions to fill - day to day and year to year. I have worn a lot of different shoes in my life. Each with their own style, and their own purpose.

I came into the world unencumbered...undefined. At some point in time though my mother determined that I needed to have shoes on my feet to provide both support and identity. I wonder if I was like my own children who seem to initially resist the burden of shoes. They try to kick them off and maintain their freedom. But in any case, my mother persevered and before long shoes became an integral part of who I was. There were the first little infant shoes that kept my feet steady as I learned to walk. The ugly orthopedic shoes that fixed my pigeon toe problem. My tennis shoes were part of my daily uniform as the tomboy that I was. I remember that it was uncool for them to ever look new. Whenever I was forced to get a new pair, the first order of business was to take them outside and scuff them up as much as possible. It would have been embarrassing at the time to call attention to myself by having shoes that were too bright white. This caused my mother endless consternation of course, but blending in was of utmost importance. There were the various stages of ice skates...the quality and style improving as I did. These skates helped me gain confidence in myself as I learned a new skill and got used to being watched. In my Dorothy Hamill haircut and the uniforms that my mom made, I dreamed of skating in the Olympics one day. Who knows? I suppose anything is possible. But my parents divorced, and we moved across the state, and the ice skates got put away. But they were soon replaced by other things...roller skates for one. The blue ones that looked like tennis shoes that were on my feet for most of 5th and 6th grade. That was back in the day when all of the kids met at the schoolyard after school and played until the moms called them in for dinner. It would have been unthinkable to stay inside and watch TV. We got skinned knees, and were always dirty, but we sure did have fun.

There were of course the shoes that might have been. It was 7th grade and everyone (seriously everyone...well everyone except me that is) had Mohawks that year. The three inch high wedge heels with straps that were the most wonderful shoes ever created. They could be worn with jeans as well as skirts and I wanted those shoes more than almost anything in the world. My mom thought they were ridiculous. She did not agree that a 12 year old should be wearing high heels. The usual reasons...they were inappropriate for my age and I might break my ankle. And thus began the contest of wills, me begging, my mom holding firm. By the time my mom relented that I was finally old enough for heels Mohawks were out of style, so I never did wear them. I suppose it is time now to forgive her for this injustice. Or maybe not. But I must admit that if my twelve year old daughter wanted three inch heels, I would now find that highly inappropriate. She might after all break her ankle. My mother seems to get smarter the older I get. I love her for always looking out for what was best for me...even if it meant the answer was no.

I got a little older and soon there were dance shoes that I wore all through high school in dance production class. I danced a solo in those shoes (even though I was terrified the shoes kept me on my feet). And the cheerleading shoes, and the flip flops, and the Dr. Scholl's. Suddenly it seemed important to have shoes to match my handbag. There were the beautiful white satin shoes that I wore to the temple to be married to the love of my life. Those were wonderful shoes. And there were the character shoes that helped me play so many roles on stage in theater in college. It is amazing how much I learned about myself by pretending to be other people. I stayed on various stages as often as possible right up until my first positive pregnancy test when I decided I had new lessons to learn.

Before that moment my all time favorite pair of shoes would have to have been my red pumps. I was now old enough to make my own choices so they were three inch heels...cherry red...and they were fabulous. When I put those shoes on I knew I could conquer the world. They were sexy and sassy and heads turned when I walked into a room. I knew I looked good in those shoes so I held my head a little higher and walked with a spring in my step. It is hard to say if the shoes gave me so much confidence or if a confident girl would choose such a shoe. Kind of like the proverbial chicken and egg question. But in any event, I smile when I think of those shoes and of the girl who wore them. She had big hair, big attitude and really big dreams. That girl got straight A's through most of college and had every intention of becoming either a world famous actress or a high powered attorney at a prestigious law firm one day. Or maybe both. She wanted to travel the world. Even more she wanted to change the world. I smile a wistful smile when I think of her. She was something else.

I just glanced down at the shoes I am wearing today. Beat up beige loafers, sturdy and practical. Not very attractive but infinitely useful. Yikes! When did that happen? I guess it started when my first son was born. Suddenly law school did not seem that important anymore, so, I put my husband through instead. Most of my time was now spent crawling around on the floor with my new baby. Practical shoes seemed to make sense. My loafers are my mom shoes. They've seen me through a lot. Second son's birth and a cross country move away from family. Baby number three...a girl! Now it was my turn to be a mom putting on my daughter's shoes. I did not care much what was on my feet by this time but her little pink baby shoes with ruffles on them melted my heart. It doesn't get much more fun than that. Babies four and five each were accompanied by home remodels and moves to bigger homes to accommodate the growing family. With dad traveling most of the time, and doing day care, and making ends meet

I was learning a lot about how much strength I really had. I often felt I would not have enough but then...I would pray hard and find a little more somewhere and go on. Babies 6, 7 and 8 - and by this time my shoe size was up by 1 1/2 sizes...my feet stretched out by pregnancy and weight gain and all of those fun things. My loafers have been on my feet for all of these years and all of these babies. They are not shoes that will gain me any notariety in the world. They are not special, or fashionable, but they are perfect. They are perfect for running up and down the sidelines at soccer games (rain or shine), and for basketball, football, cross country, swimming, and hockey. They are perfect for the hours and hours (and hours) of carpooling. They are perfect for keeping my feet steady while keeping house. The dishes, cleaning, laundry (there really is a lot of laundry) that are the necessary part of this life I have chosen. They are perfect for playing games with my little ones and outings to the zoo, and field trips and grace art. They are perfect for fulfilling the church callings I have held that usually involve some sort of hands on service. They are perfect for hitting the imaginary brake pedal on my side of the car while teaching my son to drive. I know it doesn't really help but it makes me feel better. They are perfect for all of the trivial things I do every day that somehow add up to something important. They are perfect to support my often tired and swollen feet as I carry this new little baby. I wonder who he or she will be and what new dimension they will add to our home. One thing is certain...I have a few more years of sturdy brown loafers ahead. And I am o.k. with that. I am grateful for that. I am truly blessed.

I wonder if red shoe girl would be disappointed if she could see brown loafer woman. Most of what I am doing today would not have seemed too exciting to her. She could not have understood its value at that point in time having never lived it. I never did travel the world, but I have walked miles and miles in discovering who I really am. I never did change the world either I guess. But the whole world has changed for me in ways so wonderful that I never even knew to dream these dreams before. I am grateful to God for guiding my footsteps and bringing me here to this place...to this life I am leading. It is not an easy life, but it is beautiful.

The other great thing about shoes is that at the end of every day we take them off. We spend some time undefined again...just being. And with each new day we have the choice of which shoes to put on. I wonder sometimes what the future holds for me. There will almost certainly be weddings and funerals, missionary farewells and grandchildren....most likely a lot of them. Will I ever wear red pumps again? Probably not, but stranger things have happened so you never know. I do still hope for world travel, and perhaps even missionary service. Whatever life brings though, and whatever shoes I am wearing, my primary goal is to have my feet set firmly on the path that will one day lead me home to my Father in Heaven. And I pray that my family will be traveling with me always. At the end of the day that is really all that matters.