On Red Sparkly Shoes and Beautiful Feet

She will only wear shoes if they sparkle. 

No glitter? No girl. 

Her all time favorites are the red ones.

 When we speak of common sense things like rain boots and tennis shoes, she turns her head and says, “No, thanks. I’d rather have sparkly feet.”

 This used to drive me crazy. Me, the mom with practical shoes. Boots for mud and Nikes for workouts. Flip flops for the beach and slippers for frosty mornings when the floor is frigid.

But then this shoe-shimmering girl of mine taught me a lesson about beautiful feet. 

 Last week when the clouds finally birthed rain and the puddles pooled quiet in the driveway, she took those sparkling toes and jigged happy in the murky water, the water that this mama would deliberately avoid  if I were dancing on the driveway.

I stood in the doorway waving her pink polka-dotted boots in the air, a silent suggestion to be practical.

 But she’d just laughed from the driveway’s end and waved back at me, her bejeweled feet sinking steady in the muddy mess.

Though her feet were wrapped in soggy glitter when her puddle waltz was done, Maggie’s smile glimmered bright enough to light the sky on that cloudy day. And as I wiped the splats of grime off of those sparkling shoes, I wondered if my little girl understands the truth about beautiful feet better than most.

Maybe beautiful feet have less to do with sequins or shine and more to do with courage.

 Maybe beautiful feet aren’t defined by style or color. Maybe beautiful feet are simply the ones that have courage to step boldly into the mud of this broken world and spread the bling of grace in murky places.

Perhaps beautiful feet  are the toes that bring shimmers of hope; gleams of glory; flickers of faith to the places that no one else dares to step. 

Beautiful feet may not be practical, but they are impassioned. They may not be sensible but they are significant.

 Beautiful feet aren’t afraid to dance in the rain, to pirouette in the mud, or to walk in the footsteps of the Savior. 

Beautiful feet inspire beautiful lives.

When her puddle pirouetting was done, Maggie traded her soggy sequins for pink plastic princess heels.

And as I scrubbed those drippy red shoes, I asked my girl why she’d decided to linger so long in that puddle at the driveway’s end.

 Maggie’s tinny heels click clacked across the floor as she moved toward the window to get a glimpse of  that puddle once again.  “I was just dancing for Jesus,” she said with a dreamy look in her eyes.

And that’s when I knew it was true-

Red sparkly shoes don’t make feet beautiful. But falling in love with Jesus does.

When we live every hour in light of His blood shed for our ransom, it changes the way we walk.  It changes the way we talk. It changes the way we look at puddles and people and problems.

Beautiful feet aren’t dependent on glitter and glam; they are set ablaze by a love affair with the One whose feet walked up Calvary’s hill in their place.

Beautiful feet grow brave because of what Jesus bravely did for us. 

My high-heeled girl was digging through the shoe closet again; this time in search of her flip flops with the sheeny turquoise jewels. 

And as I squatted at her side to find those sparkling sandals, I whispered a blessing over my little girl’s fast-growing feet.

And then I added a prayer for her Mommy,  too; a simple plea for wisdom in the walk.

‘Cause someday when I meet my Savior face to face, I want Him to take one look at my wrinkly worn feet and say, “Well done, beautiful one. Well done.”

Linking with Lisa-Jo and so many other lovely writers for Five-Minute Friday.  Today, we’re writing for five minutes about the word “she,” just pouring our hearts on the page, uncensored, imperfect, and real. Care to join us?