A Comfortable Pair of Shoes
12/01/12 05:07
It is about ten degrees out there this morning. That is typical for our area this time of the year. But we have had a fall and early winter of abnormally high temperatures. While citizens of Alaska are dealing with record cold and snow, we here on the plains have yet to see much of winter. We’ve had a few snowstorms, but after each the weather has warmed up, the snow melted and we’ve gone back to running around town in our shirtsleeves without jackets. The high on Tuesday was in the sixties. But Tuesday evening the wind started to pick up, the temperature dropped and there were a few snowflakes in the air. We didn’t get much snow, maybe a half inch. It is always harder to measure when the winds are gusting 35 to 50 mph. We noticed the difference right away when we stepped out of the house yesterday morning. The day remained cool and we got out our winter coats and donned hats and gloves as we went about our business.
The forecast predicts that things will begin to warm up tomorrow, with daytime highs in the 50’s by Sunday. Right now, the thing I noticed when I awoke is that the winds have died down. It is calm out there. That alone makes it seem warmer.
Last evening, after a long day of office work, running out and about, and various chores that had to be accomplished, I got back to the house a little after 7 pm. I was tired. It had been more than 12 hours since I left for work in the morning. I had carried my things in from the pickup without putting on my gloves and hat and my cheeks and hands were a bit chilly. What I noticed, however, was that my feet were warm. In fact my feet hadn’t been cold all day. I was wearing my hiking boots. I do so more often these days as a concession to slippery walks and streets.
I’m certainly no cowboy, but I’ve had a pair of cowboy boots as part of my attire since I was a little kid. I remember a couple of occasions when I went out and bought a new pair of boots. When we moved to Chicago, I made sure that I left with a new pair. I was ready to live in Chicago and to be a student, but I needed some things that might mark me as being from the West. A new pair of boots seemed to be a good idea. Once, when we lived in North Dakota, I went to New York City to make a proposal to officers of our denomination. In those days our national offices were located in New York. I made sure that I traveled with cowboy boots. Once again I wanted to make sure that I didn’t look like a local when I was in the big city. In both cases, the boots didn’t make me stand out at all. There are lots and lots of people in Chicago and New York who wear cowboy boots.
I suppose that part of the reason I wear the boots is that I’m not exactly what anyone would call tall. At 5’6”, I find myself looking up at people all of the time. Adding an inch or so to my height still results in being short, but it makes me feel a bit taller. And wearing footwear that comes with bootstraps is symbolic of being someone who believes in hard work and earning one’s way in this world. I’ve been known to say that I’ve been pulling myself up by my own bootstraps since I was a kid. It isn’t very dramatic. People rarely notice. When polished, a pair of boots looks nice and passes for dress shoes in most settings.
A few months ago, after returning from a month of sabbatical, I noticed that my feet seemed to be sore at the end of the day. Being overweight, I resolved to take of a few pounds and sometimes soaked my feet in the tub when they were sore. However, I remembered that I hadn’t experienced sore feet at all during the month of sabbatical. Slowly the truth dawned on me. It wasn’t a truth I was eager to accept. My feet aren’t sore when I don’t wear cowboy boots every day of the week. Whenever I wear sensible shoes for at least a few days each week, I avoid any pain in my feet.
I have known for a long time that you don’t see many pairs of cowboy boots in nursing homes. I always assumed that the ornery old cusses avoided the nursing homes. As my friend Reuben Bareis says, “No matter how nice you make a retirement home, there will always be a few old guys who would rather die out on the prairie with their boots on.” I’ve always been drawn to those guys. I seem to have a lot in common with them.
But it was nice, yesterday, to go around town with no fear of slipping and having my feet toasty warm all day. It was pleasant to come home, slip of my boots and slide into my moccasins without having experienced any foot discomfort all day long. I can imagine that as I continue to grow older a few concessions to make life more pleasant are in order.
I still don’t have any New Balance, Asics Nike or Adidas shoes in my closet. It seems a bit silly for a guy with my body size and shape to spend a hundred dollars on fancy tennis shoes. I won’t be winning any marathons this year. And I have never been able to get excited about running for the sake of running. I’ve not been a fan of the gerbil activities of health clubs. I’d rather go outside for a walk than run on a treadmill. Maybe that is why I have trouble losing weight, but it has always seemed to me that there are lots of other ways to get exercise.
So my current favorite shoes are basic hiking boots.
My mentor, Ross Snyder, once caught my attention with a short reflection on how his shoes were his home. Well into his ‘70’s at the time, he was still aware that God’s call means you need to get up and get moving. Home didn’t have to be a physical place. A good pair of shoes might be the best equipment for being faithful and following God.
Psalm 90 declares, “Lord, you have been our dwelling place (our home) in all generations.” I like that image a lot. My real home isn’t any particular building or any specific location. It is wherever I am with God. And there is no place that I can go that is out of God’s reach.
As long as I’m in motion a comfortable pair of shoes seems in order.
The forecast predicts that things will begin to warm up tomorrow, with daytime highs in the 50’s by Sunday. Right now, the thing I noticed when I awoke is that the winds have died down. It is calm out there. That alone makes it seem warmer.
Last evening, after a long day of office work, running out and about, and various chores that had to be accomplished, I got back to the house a little after 7 pm. I was tired. It had been more than 12 hours since I left for work in the morning. I had carried my things in from the pickup without putting on my gloves and hat and my cheeks and hands were a bit chilly. What I noticed, however, was that my feet were warm. In fact my feet hadn’t been cold all day. I was wearing my hiking boots. I do so more often these days as a concession to slippery walks and streets.
I’m certainly no cowboy, but I’ve had a pair of cowboy boots as part of my attire since I was a little kid. I remember a couple of occasions when I went out and bought a new pair of boots. When we moved to Chicago, I made sure that I left with a new pair. I was ready to live in Chicago and to be a student, but I needed some things that might mark me as being from the West. A new pair of boots seemed to be a good idea. Once, when we lived in North Dakota, I went to New York City to make a proposal to officers of our denomination. In those days our national offices were located in New York. I made sure that I traveled with cowboy boots. Once again I wanted to make sure that I didn’t look like a local when I was in the big city. In both cases, the boots didn’t make me stand out at all. There are lots and lots of people in Chicago and New York who wear cowboy boots.
I suppose that part of the reason I wear the boots is that I’m not exactly what anyone would call tall. At 5’6”, I find myself looking up at people all of the time. Adding an inch or so to my height still results in being short, but it makes me feel a bit taller. And wearing footwear that comes with bootstraps is symbolic of being someone who believes in hard work and earning one’s way in this world. I’ve been known to say that I’ve been pulling myself up by my own bootstraps since I was a kid. It isn’t very dramatic. People rarely notice. When polished, a pair of boots looks nice and passes for dress shoes in most settings.
A few months ago, after returning from a month of sabbatical, I noticed that my feet seemed to be sore at the end of the day. Being overweight, I resolved to take of a few pounds and sometimes soaked my feet in the tub when they were sore. However, I remembered that I hadn’t experienced sore feet at all during the month of sabbatical. Slowly the truth dawned on me. It wasn’t a truth I was eager to accept. My feet aren’t sore when I don’t wear cowboy boots every day of the week. Whenever I wear sensible shoes for at least a few days each week, I avoid any pain in my feet.
I have known for a long time that you don’t see many pairs of cowboy boots in nursing homes. I always assumed that the ornery old cusses avoided the nursing homes. As my friend Reuben Bareis says, “No matter how nice you make a retirement home, there will always be a few old guys who would rather die out on the prairie with their boots on.” I’ve always been drawn to those guys. I seem to have a lot in common with them.
But it was nice, yesterday, to go around town with no fear of slipping and having my feet toasty warm all day. It was pleasant to come home, slip of my boots and slide into my moccasins without having experienced any foot discomfort all day long. I can imagine that as I continue to grow older a few concessions to make life more pleasant are in order.
I still don’t have any New Balance, Asics Nike or Adidas shoes in my closet. It seems a bit silly for a guy with my body size and shape to spend a hundred dollars on fancy tennis shoes. I won’t be winning any marathons this year. And I have never been able to get excited about running for the sake of running. I’ve not been a fan of the gerbil activities of health clubs. I’d rather go outside for a walk than run on a treadmill. Maybe that is why I have trouble losing weight, but it has always seemed to me that there are lots of other ways to get exercise.
So my current favorite shoes are basic hiking boots.
My mentor, Ross Snyder, once caught my attention with a short reflection on how his shoes were his home. Well into his ‘70’s at the time, he was still aware that God’s call means you need to get up and get moving. Home didn’t have to be a physical place. A good pair of shoes might be the best equipment for being faithful and following God.
Psalm 90 declares, “Lord, you have been our dwelling place (our home) in all generations.” I like that image a lot. My real home isn’t any particular building or any specific location. It is wherever I am with God. And there is no place that I can go that is out of God’s reach.
As long as I’m in motion a comfortable pair of shoes seems in order.