A long while ago I wrote just a little blurb about Red Shoes. The simple fact was that I wanted a
pair that was comfortable and classy; I just wasn't having any luck in finding the
pair. Then, in a little catalog that I thought looked like one that my Grandma
would get in her mailbox, I found the perfect pair of Red
Shoes.
Sometimes those Granny Catalogs with
elastic-waisted pants, velour pants and floral housecoats are full of hidden
gems, like Red Shoes. (Never underestimate
the Granny Catalog.)
So, this morning, I was getting ready for church
and as I eyeballed the dresses in my closet, I thought about how "putting
on my Sunday best" isn't really what it used to be. When I was a girl, it
was about the little white socks edged in lace, a pair of white sandals in the
summer, black shiny shoes in the winter, and always about pretty dresses. I
looked at my dresses and realized that nowadays, I usually go for either
"dressy" jeans (is there really such a thing?!) or dress pants.
I'm a little hesitant to wear a dress. I think I
can blend in better with pants. I don't make a statement if I wear gray or
brown or black. Besides, I really do like those colors and they are, more or
less, my comfort zone. But today, I wanted to be bold. I wanted to dress
the way I feel on the inside. Vibrant. Ladylike. A little sassy. A little
vintage.
I pulled out a dress that I've had for about two
years. Initially, the zipper was broke so that was my excuse not to wear it.
But I had fixed it and now my excuse really was null and void. Not to mention,
it was sleeveless and today was hot and sunny.
Sliding it off the hanger, I held it out to decide.
Then before I could think about this too much I slipped it on over my head and
zipped it up.
"Come on Dianne, you know you want
to wear the Red ones. You knew it when you
pulled that blue and white polka-dotted dress with the red belt from your
closet. Just do it! Quit worrying about what you think "someone" might
say. You don't even know who "someone" is.
The Red Shoes found
their way onto my feet and as I stretched down to work with the buckles and
straps, I was reminded of Grandma. I think of her when I have to bend down to
tie my shoes, pull on a pair of nylons, or paint my toenails. It's not that it
is difficult, but it is more
difficult than it was when I was half my age. Now, double my age and I am
almost Grandma's age: 92. Now, every single morning she puts on a pair of
super-duper extra-strength elastic hose. When I help her, I sit on the floor
and work to get them on her toes, then over her heels, then up her legs. Let me
just say that it is a workout. "Torture Tights" is how they should be
marketed. Seriously.
If I didn’t wear the shoes more often now, maybe I never
would. Someday my flexibility may not be so flexible and my fingers not so
nimble. What was I waiting for?
I went to church this morning. I thanked God that
He made me uniquely me. And after
church when Aaron and Lisa-Anna came over, we had a photo session. I’m not
comfortable with being in pictures. I have a hard time looking and feeling
natural and I tend to find all my perceived flaws. Today though, I did not want
to do that. I wanted to take my gummy smile, the crooked way I tend to hold my
head, my neck wrinkles, my generous curves and thank God that He made me who I
am, inside and out.
And if wearing Red Shoes
reminds me to be thankful that I am God’s creation, then so be it.
Love,
Dianne
