shoes

“Of course, I know who you are!”

I sit near the Lovely Lady in my easy chair watching television. She says she likes to listen to the programs because she has her eyes on her stitching and doesn’t want to lose her place. So, when I teasingly echo the evil politician in the cop show who has asked the inevitable question of the patrolman who pulled him over, she replies without looking up.

“Do you know who I am?” (That’s me, you know.)

“Of course, I know who you are! You’re the guy with his right shoe untied!”

She’s not wrong. It is untied. It may be untied again now as I sit at my desk and peck away at the keys, late into the night.

It’s a phenomenon I cannot explain. At least once a day—for the last several months—my right shoe comes untied. It might be while I’m taking a walk outside, or walking into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, or even heading to my desk to write a line or two.

It’s always my right shoe. Every time.

I asked that mysterious being in my smartphone about it the other day.

“Hey, ◼◼◼◼! Why is my right shoe untied?”

The disembodied voice tries, but I don’t think she understands the question. No help at all.

I could do some research on my own, but I really can’t be bothered. I’ve gotten used to it and am more amused than annoyed by the errant string. I usually just re-tie the shoe. Or take both of them off, left and right. That feels better anyway.

And sometimes, like the evening in question, I simply let the shoelace flop around wherever I walk. It bothers her.

I guess I knew it did. Still, I was surprised when she mentioned it the afternoon after that little conversation. Evidently, she doesn’t want to be married to the guy with his right shoe untied.

She had been awakened during the night by a foot cramp and, trying to get her mind off the pain, lay in bed beside me trying to think of ideas that might help with my problem.

“Do you tie the right shoe differently than the left?”
“Maybe you could take the laces out and put them back in, but in the other shoe.”
“Would it help to put something on the laces—like wax or something like that?”

I didn’t really know I had a problem. I wasn’t working on eliminating said problem. And, I’m not going to put wax on the laces.

I’m fine tying my right shoelace again and again. I am.

But, I heard a line in a television show recently about a man who is disappointed that he never became the man he wanted to be. Something in his life held him back.

And now, I’m wondering if my right shoe is holding me back.

Worse, I’m wondering now if there are other things I haven’t thought of that could be holding me back.

I’m not the man I wanted to become. I’m not.

Oh, I never wanted to be rich, so there’s no disappointment there. I never wanted to be famous. Or powerful.

But, I do want to be the man God wants me to be. I consider the words of The Teacher to the religious leaders who were trying to trap Him in error. You can read them in Matthew 22.

I’ve spent years working on the most important part. Most of my life. I’m trying hard to love God with everything I’ve got. Everything. I haven’t completed the quest, since it’s a lifetime commitment. And, I’m still working on it.

But, the second part—the loving my neighbor in the same way I love myself part—that’s not coming along as well as it could.

And now, I’m wondering if there’s something similar to having my right shoe come untied every day that’s holding me back from achieving that goal. Something insignificant. Something I’ve decided I can just live with.

It’s always the little things that trip us up, isn’t it? We take care of the big stuff, but we’re careless—literally, without care—about the little, peripheral things that will lay us out, making it so we can’t accomplish the big ones.

Little things, like shoelaces.

The writer of Hebrews in the Bible warned us:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1, NLT)

I’ve got some work to do—finding the little things that keep me from the bigger goal.

I bet I’m not the only one.

I may even find out why my right shoe won’t stay tied. She’ll be happy if I do.

It’s time to run. Again.

“Sometimes, when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to believe there are no little things.” (Bruce Barton)

“He will call for them from the ends of the earth, and they will hurry to come. Not one of them is tired or falls. No one sleeps. Not a belt is loosened at the waist, or a shoe string broken. Their arrows are sharp, and their bows are ready.” (Isaiah 5:26-28, NLV)

I walk around like everything is fine, but deep down, inside my shoe, my sock is sliding off.

Kind of warms the heart, doesn’t it? No. Perhaps that’s not the right way to put it. I saw the little photo of a pair of shoes the other day and stopped to read the text. Heartwarming isn’t the way I would describe my reaction.

Confused, maybe…

My first thought was that I was going to feel sympathy for the person who wrote the sentence. But the gotcha phrase at the end made me laugh.

Ha! Just another touchy-feely sentimental moment turned into a joke.

I shared the picture with my friends, and went about my day. But, something made me go back to the photo again. And again.

Somehow, I wasn’t laughing anymore. Sad. That’s the way I began to feel inside.

The simple fact is, the event described is exactly the kind of thing that usually ruins my day. Oh, I don’t necessarily mean that I’ve got bad socks, but I’m saying that minor inconveniences visible to no one but me are the catalysts for more bad moods than anyone will ever know.

Minor inconveniences.

They’re kind of a big thing. For me, anyway. Maybe for you, too.

All day long, the slightly too-small shirt I put on this morning keeps pulling out at the waist. Each time I reach for something on my work bench, or stretch overhead to put in a light bulb, or bend over to pick up that penny I dropped while making change, the shirt tail, without any warning at all is hanging over my belt.

I hate that!

And, nobody cared. In fact, none of you knew it was happening. Not even the Lovely Lady.

I feel bad mentioning this at all. Sort of. It pales beside other issues.

One of my new author friends mentioned some serious personal life events in a note she wrote to me today. Beyond serious, they have been catastrophic. After that, it seems awfully silly for me to focus on the trivial and the mundane.

But, we live life as it happens. The catastrophic events come. For some, they last for many years—perhaps never to pass from our experience. Dealing with and responding to them is paramount.

Still, the minuscule events come too, annoying and chipping away at our patience. I wonder if they will also someday be a part of the record of how we responded and carried on in our walk here on this sphere of water and dirt.

The world keeps spinning. We keep walking with the socks bunched up in our shoes. Discomfort, inconveniences, and annoyances pile up.

You know I’m not really thinking about cheap socks now, right?

Who are we—really—when the trivial, the mundane, problems of life begin to wear on us? How do we treat our fellow travelers?

When I have big problems—the kind everyone can see—it’s not all that hard to keep my footing, relationally speaking. Folks treat me with deference, the kid glove treatment we’ve all heard of. All the warning signs are obvious and even I can remember to exercise self-control in dealing with others.

But, what about when my shoe comes untied?

Walking along the trail, side by side with the Lovely Lady, I don’t even notice it for awhile. Oh, I know something is not quite right, but it really doesn’t matter.

I keep walking. We keep talking.

Little by little, the brain becomes aware of the problem. Finally, in a moment of epiphany, I realize my foot is sliding around in my shoe.

And just like that, I am angry.

Well, who wouldn’t be? The person by my side, the woman who stood beside me at an altar all those years ago and promised to love and help me, won’t slow down. My shoe is untied and she keeps striding along like there is nothing wrong.

My shoe is untied!

“Slow down!” I snap.

She looks at me in surprise. Just a moment ago, we were enjoying our outing in the beauty of God’s creation. Nothing has changed, to her mind. There is no reason she would have seen my predicament.

My world, on the other hand, is turned upside down. Of course, she instantly slows to a stop and waits while I kneel down and make the necessary adjustments.

But the damage has been done.

I’ve spent a lot of words on feet, haven’t I? Perhaps you already realize the feet aren’t the problem. The heart is.

The heart.

We’re a self-centered lot, aren’t we? Oh, we talk a good game, pretending to care more about others than ourselves, but let just one little personal issue flare up and no one matters in the world besides ourselves. Nothing is more important in that moment than our comfort.

God is working on my heart problem. I’m trying to let Him. You see, the Apostle who loved letter-writing passed on the words God had for me long ago:

You can’t be looking at your own problems, but need to be focusing on what those around you need. Think like He did, the God-man who gave up everything so you could have everything.

As He’s working on my heart problem, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind waiting up while I tie my shoe.

I’d like to walk beside you for awhile.

You can pull up your socks if you need to.

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.
(Jane Austen ~ British novelist ~ 1775-1817)

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests, but each of you the interests of the others.
(Philippians 2: 3,4)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

My Right Shoe

In My Shoes