Red Shoes

Every woman harbors a secret obsession – books, music, chocolate, or – in my case – shoes.  I adore shoes.  The ‘girlier’ the shoe the faster it draws my eye.  If you opened my closet door, you’d be faced with two floor-to-ceiling racks of gorgeous shoes.  Flats, heels, in-betweens.  Lace, metallic, sequins, silk, leather – oh, my goodness, I swoon.  (I’m Southern; swooning is permissible.).

Shoes don’t care if you gain a few pounds; they’ll still accommodate.  Shoes just care that you wear them.  Shoes just want to see and be seen – sort of like politicians and starlets. I’m happy to make that happen for my footwear lovelies.  I must admit, though, to owning several stunning pairs that have simply been resting in place and awaiting their turn in the spotlight.

My favorite pair of shoes – ones that I have worn several times – are three-inch heels in a muted red silk.  A gorgeous X-shaped ankle strap holds the shoe in place, and a little zipper fastens up the back of each shoe.  You may think that these shoes sound miserably uncomfortable, but au contraire! I could walk – or even slowly run – in these babies for hours.  Did I mention these red confections are my favorite?

The last time I wore them was Christmas Eve a few years ago, and I noticed when I unzipped them to slip them off at the close of that evening, scuff and soil marks crossed both toes. My heart didn’t quite break; after all, never cry over something that can’t cry over you, but my heart did fall just a bit.  I thought then that I’d need to find a replacement, and I looked.  Oh, how I looked, but I could never find something that felt as much like ‘me’ as my original red shoes, even scuffed and marked as they appeared. I considered throwing them in the dustbin, but every time I tried, I physically couldn’t quite make it to the trash.  So, these delectable goods joined the ranks of the other shoes that simply sat on my shelf.

It embarrasses me a teensy bit to admit that it had not occurred to me over the intervening years that cleaning these favorite shoes might be possible.  Then, the other night, while searching my closet for something else, my eyes fell on the gorgeous red silk heels.  Cliché, I know, but a lightbulb switched on in my head, and I my hand sought and caressed those red pumps, then carried them to my laundry room sink where I went after them with Shout stain remover.  Making them look worse didn’t cross my mind as I was actively searching for replacements; remember, please, the alternative to cleaning was the dumpster.  So, Shout became my new best friend.  I cleaned, rinsed, then hung them to dry.  It took three days, but dry they did, and my experiment in shoe maintenance proved satisfactory indeed.  Happy, happy, happy girl!

Why am I telling you about my shoes?  Rest assured, I do have a point.  As I stood over that laundry room sink rubbing at the blackened silk,  I laughed as I realized, even with everything else in my life seemingly falling to pieces, I remained capable of caring for something scarred and marred to such a degree that, by all common sense, deserved nothing more than a respectful farewell, but I couldn’t force myself to discard them.  And, as with most things in my life, my brain translated that thought to contemplations on my faith.

If I could still love a damaged pair shoes, if I could take the time to clean a damaged pair of shoes and restore them to something worth keeping – something worth having – how much more can and does He do that for our hearts?  Isn’t that that He promises?  He will create in us a clean heart if allow it.  Maybe it takes us time – years even – to get to the place where we stare at that promise and realize it was meant for us, for each and every one of us.  He created us for His pleasure, simply, solely because He desired to love us.  He longs for us to come, bare the black marks, expose the scuffs, and ask Him to burnish us back to a state worth preserving.   As I realized this, with the cool water running over my hands, rinsing away years of damage from the red silk, I knew absolutely that my inability to dispense with those red silk pumps had nothing at all to do with me and even less to do with my shoes.  Rather, He had safeguarded those shoes, allotting them space on my shelf until I was ready to remember that my heart has always belonged to Him; so, does yours.  He awaits you, maybe not in your closet, but he awaits.