I just lied to you.
But I am getting my Chacos fixed! No more peering between the footbed and sole!
I am walking in New Shoes though. Soon. Or now. I haven't really decided if I have Them on yet.
These Shoes are scarier, older, on-my-own-er, exciting-er, knowing-er, building-er, and pretty brand spanking new on these feet of mine. Over the past few weeks They have caused blisters, eruptions, and callouses; They have also felt more supportive and have that in-the-long-term healthy feel.
They are my Next Step Shoes. Or my New Life Shoes. I haven't decided that yet either.
They started slipping on about three weeks ago, when I had a conversation with my beloved brother Jamal about what being Christ-like looks like in a particular situation. A situation about which I had already broken down sobbing (yes. sobbing.) and through which the both of us went. I felt Unheard. Uncared For. Untrusted. Unrespected. Unknown. Unloved. Un-a-whole-lot-of-things that I felt entitled to. But Un-a-whole-lot-of-things that Jesus was entitled to much more than I and yet suffered through for longer, more intensely, and more unjustly than I.
Hebrews 12:3 "Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
As an unfortunate example of this situation, please view the beginning of this interview of the Pink Team. Oh, bad timing. I wish I could have seen my face when Kevin said, "So this is your 2nd year, right?" Ooooh, buddy. I wish you could have seen Ryan's face. He knew I was about to either go off or start bawling, or both. And I could have, so easily I could have. Goodness, I miss my adopted-in brother.
They slipped on significantly more as the end of the summer loomed. And then: Lies. A bunch of lies swarmed (and still do) my mind and heart. Lies such as:
"You WILL be alone. Emotionally and Spiritually alone, if not physically alone."
"You are not strong enough for this."
"God isn't going to take care of you."
"No one wants you."
"You will never make any progress or make a difference to anyone outside your little bubble."
I believe(d) those lies too often and too much. Any often and any much is too often and too much.
So I sobbed. A lot. And usually Jamal was there. But it had been too long and I have been too hard.
And I was (am) just scared. Terrified.
Dang that Fear.
Maybe it needs to be pushed through, not once-for-all conquered.
No, it should be conquered.
For me, right now, it will be pushed through.
Oh, And. I got the job!