Shoe Story; Love Story
Originally posted March 10, 2023
Attending a wedding recently, I experienced what I will call “a shoe fiasco!” What began as a small tear quickly turned into a large one resulting in the entire top of my mule-type shoe being separated from the sole. Shoeless, embarrassed, and a bit surprised, I did what all women do — I excused myself to the ladies room.
I stood in front of the mirror and pondered the moment feeling a lot of “feels” while noting that there are few items in a ladies restroom that will suffice for shoe repair. I thought how “genius of an opportunity awaits'“ for someone to install a vending machine that holds an expanded offering of useful items like a stapler or a spare pair of shoes.
After some debate, I quickly made my way to our seats, stuffed my shoes underneath my chair, and walked barefoot to the buffet line.
John had already been served and was making his way back to the table, so I just took the next place in line.
The “next place” happened to be beside the groom’s mother — a long-time, like-family friend who “if” she noticed, never mentioned it. But, the people she introduced me to did seem to notice. Nothing but kindness was demonstrated, but many people had that, “Why are you barefoot” question on their face.
I took my plate, let out a long sigh, and grabbed two cupcakes and a cookie before returning to the table. John’s gluten free anyway, but if there was ever a time to eat his portion of dessert, this was the moment.
Reseated, I explained the shoe situation to John and a friend — both thought it was hysterical. Not laughing a me, just inviting me to see the fun of the situation. They rallied to rally me. Their encouragement accompanied by 2 cupcakes and a slice of wedding cake gave me the courage to make the best of it. Eventually, my shoe situation had made it’s way through several of my friends and family, and a solution was found.
In the days that have passed, I have felt God’s love and laughter over this situation. NEVER laughing at me, but laughing with me as only someone who really loves you can. All my friends have “truly” laughed when they heard the story. Maybe that’s the gift in this shoe story.
I may have danced my last dance in these shoes, but I have a wedding feast ahead where the banquet room will be filled with all the beauty of God. A place where servings of blueberry pie and duct-taped dressy shoes have served to remind me that God loves me.
I wrote the following in my journal this morning. I hope you enjoy.
I broke a shoe,
it fell apart,
it came unglued completely.
And now I’m wondering,
“What to do?”
to right my applecart.
Maybe no one will even see!
That is what I’m truly hoping.
Oops. Too late I knew --
I feel the glances in my heart.
I decide to disappear on three,
And wishing, I start counting.
It fails. It’s true.
Vanishing is a mere magician’s art,
or so it’s been for me.
This isn’t my first rodeo,
for silently praying while counting to three!
Girlfriends to the rescue!
Love worked where wishing failed.
With laughter, I kept on dancing.
Making it through the night in a pipe cleaner, duct taped shoe,
and a big smile in God’s own writing.
As stories go, and this one has,
I am confident in this:
God loves me more than I could know,
and girlfriends who get me and see me,
are felt as his forehead kiss.
I haven’t brought myself to toss them. God writes the best stories. What started as a big moment of embarrassment ended with a bigger smile of being loved.
Attending a wedding recently, I experienced what I will call “a shoe fiasco!” What began as a small tear quickly turned into a large one resulting in the entire top of my mule-type shoe being separated from the sole. Shoeless, embarrassed, and a bit surprised, I did what all women do — I excused myself to the ladies room.
I stood in front of the mirror and pondered the moment feeling a lot of “feels” while noting that there are few items in a ladies restroom that will suffice for shoe repair. I thought how “genius of an opportunity awaits'“ for someone to install a vending machine that holds an expanded offering of useful items like a stapler or a spare pair of shoes.
After some debate, I quickly made my way to our seats, stuffed my shoes underneath my chair, and walked barefoot to the buffet line.
John had already been served and was making his way back to the table, so I just took the next place in line.
The “next place” happened to be beside the groom’s mother — a long-time, like-family friend who “if” she noticed, never mentioned it. But, the people she introduced me to did seem to notice. Nothing but kindness was demonstrated, but many people had that, “Why are you barefoot” question on their face.
I took my plate, let out a long sigh, and grabbed two cupcakes and a cookie before returning to the table. John’s gluten free anyway, but if there was ever a time to eat his portion of dessert, this was the moment.
Reseated, I explained the shoe situation to John and a friend — both thought it was hysterical. Not laughing a me, just inviting me to see the fun of the situation. They rallied to rally me. Their encouragement accompanied by 2 cupcakes and a slice of wedding cake gave me the courage to make the best of it. Eventually, my shoe situation had made it’s way through several of my friends and family, and a solution was found.
In the days that have passed, I have felt God’s love and laughter over this situation. NEVER laughing at me, but laughing with me as only someone who really loves you can. All my friends have “truly” laughed when they heard the story. Maybe that’s the gift in this shoe story.
I may have danced my last dance in these shoes, but I have a wedding feast ahead where the banquet room will be filled with all the beauty of God. A place where servings of blueberry pie and duct-taped dressy shoes have served to remind me that God loves me.
I wrote the following in my journal this morning. I hope you enjoy.
I broke a shoe,
it fell apart,
it came unglued completely.
And now I’m wondering,
“What to do?”
to right my applecart.
Maybe no one will even see!
That is what I’m truly hoping.
Oops. Too late I knew --
I feel the glances in my heart.
I decide to disappear on three,
And wishing, I start counting.
It fails. It’s true.
Vanishing is a mere magician’s art,
or so it’s been for me.
This isn’t my first rodeo,
for silently praying while counting to three!
Girlfriends to the rescue!
Love worked where wishing failed.
With laughter, I kept on dancing.
Making it through the night in a pipe cleaner, duct taped shoe,
and a big smile in God’s own writing.
As stories go, and this one has,
I am confident in this:
God loves me more than I could know,
and girlfriends who get me and see me,
are felt as his forehead kiss.
I haven’t brought myself to toss them. God writes the best stories. What started as a big moment of embarrassment ended with a bigger smile of being loved.
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