Michael’s dad was the pastor of an active, growing Baptist church in Birmingham, Alabama during the forties and fifties. He was a charismatic leader who helped the church build a new sanctuary by having a silver dollar drive. The church had frequent banquets, dinners, special revivals and meetings in addition to the regular three times a week services. His pastoral work load was heavy. At one point in his ministry, he became depressed and consulted a doctor. There weren’t any medicines for "the blues" then but his doctor was wise and offered another option. When he discovered H.O. played golf, he prescribed playing in his bare feet...that’s right... his bare feet... he told H.O. that would help and it did.
One of our recent guest preachers, a lively African American woman, kept me giggling as she slipped off her high heels and preached barefooted. At lunch she told us how she was afraid of slipping when she preached her first sermon and didn’t want to appear ridiculous. So, she took off her shoes and something special happened. There was a freedom for her preaching barefooted...a connection between herself and the surface on which she stood that she felt gave her greater freedom and spirit in her preaching.
Yesterday my friend Carolyn and I were sitting in my great room, sipping... no... guzzling wine and discussing the low places we have been this past month... how our spirits are weary and worn and sad. Suddenly, simultaneous hot flashes hit and we both rushed to strip off our shoes and socks to let our naked feet cool us off. She showed me a picture of her feet (she is a photographer) and we talked about our feet... the changes in them... the beauty in them. We had to laugh... ladies of a certain age, if they are lucky, can laugh about their bodies and the ridiculousness of it all.
The day before I had gone to put on my slippers as I got up in the morning. They were not in the usual place so I had to walk barefooted in the house. It was warm enough to stay barefooted. I could feel the slick smoothness of the wooden floors, the fuzzy warmth of the shag rug, the heat bubbling up from the heat registers, the difference between the linoleum in the mudroom and the wood in kitchen... it was wonderful... all those textures I never am aware of when I walk on them separated by slippers or shoes.
Later in the day it was warm enough for me to venture out barefooted into our yard. My feet were tender... ticklish... I could feel the warmth of the stones in our front walk... the damp coolness of the earth... the sharp edges of the gravel caused me to walk lightly and with careful consideration of where to place my feet... I know why that good doctor told H.O. to play golf barefooted.
When you are barefooted, you can feel the beat of the world’s heart... the warmth of creation... the sharpness of stones and prick of sandspurs... you are totally focused on your feet and your connection to the natural world around you. There is no filter or protection for your soul... straight from the earth to your spirit... something magical and mysterious happens. You become a child paying strict attention to the world around you... seeing it differently... feeling it differently... playful and free. And for a little while, your troubles are passed through you to the welcoming good earth beneath your feet... you are removed from your own little world and transformed into a creature of the larger creation... a child of God in a natural world peopled with other barefoot creatures you never noticed before... (with apologies to Paul Tillich) the ground of our being comes into sharper focus and we are able to let go of our hurts, pains, angers, disappointments and blues for the joy of oneness with all creation.
This Lenten season, I will go barefoot... walk the earth with naked feet... feel the joy, the pain and sorrow, celebrate the possibilities as I inventory and clean out my spiritual closet, maybe paint my toenails and wiggle my toes in the dirt... remember who I was, who I am and where I am going... walk the dirt road of life and give thanks for all the sacrifices others have made in order that I might have an abundant life.
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