New Shoes

Who on earth doesn't love new shoes? New anything, really?

I get excited over a new spatula in my Christmas stocking, a new wall hanging or piece of decor, or a new type of cleaning powder to make my sink sparkle. New music...ahh...love it! New flowers...New towels! I live for new towels, all fluffy and soft. I like new T-shirts, new underwear and I covet new socks. New food (especially in the form of newly made ice cream), a new toothbrush, or a new bottle of margarita mix in a new blender.

I adore new babies, and smile at newly weds as they walk through that first year of wedded life.

New is Good. New is fun. New is moving on, moving forward, moving ahead.

Don't get me wrong, old is Okay, too...in it's right place.

My grandma is old and I love her. In fact, I hope only to have a fraction of her sprite and wisdom at the age of nearly 88. I hope to be ALIVE at her age.

Old sheets, well washed & worn nearly thin are most definitely a keeper. Old books are pretty neat, too. Old furniture, soft from age & oiled to a shine are a work of art. An old communion chalice makes you think of all the old lips that have graced it.

But old shoes? No way.

Unless you're Lars. And in that case new shoes are scary, uncomfortable, ill fitted, hard on the sole (and on the soul) and an all-around fight to the bitter end.

But this morning, the little brown soft soled Stride Rite tennis shoes that are falling apart on the edges with the foam falling out, and haven't Velcro-ed in weeks found a new home in the old trash can and the little boy was forced to find something new in the way of outer foot wear.

Thanks be to God that Stride Rite had a similar old brown pair of Velcro strap tennis shoes in his new size. And let praises ring that after some effort and convincing from his big sister (the older and wiser one), he accepted them after a short struggle and wore them to therapy this afternoon.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord this shoe size keep...at least for a little while. Amen.