Walkin' On The Wide Side

A Long Lost Ancestor of Mine

When I was in high school, the choir sang a song called "The Water Is Wide" that I dearly loved. With apologies to both my high school choir and the lyricist of that well-known song, I give you my rendition...

My foot is wide,
No one can cross o'er,
Neither have I
The wings to fly,
So build a boat,
That can carry two
And it will double
As my shoe....

I kid you not.

At the widest point of my foot the measurement reads:

FOUR INCHES.

Now, considering the fact that the length of said foundational appendage is TEN inches, that leaves me with a bottom paw that's almost half as wide as it is long.

Imagine my unmitigated joy at the prospect of shopping for shoes.

No, really.

The Shoe Department people at Wal-Mart just LOVE to see me coming to find cheap shoes. They all scatter like ants, anxious to foist me off on the guy that looks like Santa Claus from the Garden Center rather than go through another search for shoes in my size.

Sometimes I shop there just to be mean. I think it's hormonal.

When I was growing up the only wide sizes in shoes were either those for men or those found in the lovely "corrective" shoes, which came in a large variety of styles and colors, all of which were saddle oxfords and all of which were black and white. I use the term "corrective" in an extremely loose sense. Having spent most of my formative years in "corrective" shoes due to my flat feet (yet another joy), I now have the distinct pleasure of wide, flat, DEFORMED feet.

And the hits just keep on coming, folks!

A few years ago I noticed it was hard to walk at times. If I sat for any length of time, it was as if my feet froze up and refused to work correctly. Being a bit concerned, I went to a podiatrist.

Diagnosis?

Arthritis.

I now have wide, flat, deformed, ARTHRITIC feet.

Are you feeling sorry for me yet? I just wanted to know, because I sure am. And I think if you aren't I could probably even cover your part as well as mine with no problem, just FYI. I'm longsuffering that way. You don't have to thank me. Really.

And in case you're wondering, they're Size 8.

That's Size 8 W-I-D-E, son.

Oh yes it is.

So here's the point (OH THANK YOU LORD! THERE ACTUALLY IS ONE!!!)...

My thinking is this; I believe that maybe, just MAYBE, God gives us little things like my feet in order for us to really be able to appreciate the good we have. Not just now, but when we get to Heaven. Because honestly, I do SO appreciate the days when (a) I can actually walk without pain, and (b) I'm able to go to bed without begging for a foot massage, or (c) I actually GET a foot massage, or (d) I get a really great pedicure where they rub my feet until they fall off, or (e) I actually FIND a pair of shoes IN MY SIZE that FIT.

Where would the joy be if I had perfect Barbie feet? And how would I know the joy of perfect Barbie feet in Heaven if I didn't have these stompers here on earth?

It's amazing to me that God thought of these things before I even had feet.

And I can't wait for the other shoe to drop.

Isaiah 35:5

Blind eyes will be opened, deaf ears unstopped, Lame men and women will leap like deer, the voiceless break into song. Springs of water will burst out in the wilderness, streams flow in the desert. Hot sands will become a cool oasis, thirsty ground a splashing fountain. Even lowly jackals will have water to drink, and barren grasslands flourish richly. (Emphasis mine.)