The shoes looked gorgeous in the window.
The idea of wearing
the shoes felt delicious.
All her life she had dreamed of having shoes like these,
wearing them, how her life would feel once the shoes were in it. They were
perfect.
It was a match made in heaven and finally she had got to a place in
her life where the shoes would be hers.
She tried them on. They rubbed a tiny bit and were a little
bit high, but she thought she could handle it. They were so beautiful, they would
stretch and give - and end up being perfect.
They would get used to her feet.
Everyone said they looked amazing together. She would
spend time admiring them. She loved them. Wearing them hurt a bit, but the
blisters would stop eventually.
She was in love with the idea of the shoes, but eventually
she had to admit her feet were killing her and there were times when she wanted
to wear the shoes so badly, but she knew that they were too painful. She wore
them short distances instead, and came to understand, that even over those
short distances the shoes did not support her.
Yes the idea of them was good. They were like her drug.
One day the pain became too much and she put them back on
the shelf.
She looked at them from time to time.
And sometimes she tried them on. In her mind she dreamed of
wearing them - of dancing in them joyously, being blissfully happy in them. Wishing
hard.
Once she wore them to the supermarket, but as soon as she
walked in, she knew it was a mistake. She limped home, her heart sore, the
disappointment was so great.
They hadn't stretched and given where she had needed them
to, they made her teeter and not feel sure of herself. She realised the little
whispers that said ‘No’ were worth listening to, even though they felt like they
were trying to steal her joy…
They held so much promise and they had so much potential,
but the shoes didn't change her life.
Only she could.
She realised that she was looking on the outside for
something that she needed to grow within.
And that the way she walked was more important than a pair
of shoes.
Her feet were what supported her and she should take care
where she put them, and what she put them into.
She invested in putting her best foot forward.
And, walking with heart instead of her mind, she decided to
just love where she was standing.
It changed everything.
She became love.
The love fitted her better than any pair of shoes, and that
love drew new love to her, new love that honoured her better than trying to
squeeze into anything that didn’t feel right.
Her path was paved with love and bathed in light.
Deb
Wharfe (c) 2013
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