The idea: Walking in Their (lack of) shoes—go one week without shoes to start conversations about Living Stones and Trek for Transportation on June 7th—Let’s walk so they can ride!
The idea failed. But I enjoyed myself. I can count on one hand the number of conversations I had about the Trek because of my bare feet, but I had a week that I lived intentionally.
It was me trying to connect the disconnect I feel between here and there (Brazil). I missed how I felt in Brazil, and I didn’t know how to bring that feeling here. What does a missionary do when they return home? Where is home? We are in some unlabeled middle. And the ambiguity is stifling.
I felt like I had my missionary supersuit on under my clothes, and it itched. But not wearing shoes made me feel like...some of my supersuit was showing. I was, once again, slightly off, slightly unexplainable, slightly different (and if that isn't part of being a missionary, let me know).
Day 1 without shoes: No one noticed. Went shopping and out to eat. Not a word.
Day 2: Spoke in church about the Trek. No one said a thing about me doing it barefoot. Finally, one of the kids asked me why I didn't have shoes on in Sunday school. I was elated. Another kid piped up, “I noticed too, but didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if I could or not.” You can. You please, please can.
Day 3: Went to work and grocery shopping, and still nothing. After walking with my client (She has CP, and loves being pushed in her wheelchair to the park) on (mostly) roads for two hours, I realize my feet are NOT tough.
Day 4: I conclude the barefoot experiment, as is, is a failure. Half-way through the long rough road walk with my client, I realize I won't make it home this way. I bemoan the fact that we have made our world so HARD to those being "natural." And then I look next to me and realize life wouldn't be possible for my client if we hadn't made the world so hard. We come up with a compromise--I pull her along by the arm rest while walking in the grass beside her. My client is elated, giggling and moving her hand toward mine to hold it--the first time she has ever done that. We walked, giggly and grassy, home.
Day 5: First person asks me about my feet--a co-worker.
Day 6: The mailman and a second co-worker ask me about my feet. But I realize that all three times, they ask with an explanation:
"Are you doing that "natural walking" plan?
"Are you protesting or whatever like that IUPUI coach did?"
"Is it national barefoot day?"
They all projected a reason for my non-conformity. Everyone else either didn't notice, or didn't feel comfortable addressing why something was out of the ordinary.
Day 7: I run into Aldi to get strawberries and the cashier laughs, "No shoes? I like that."
Day 8: I had planned to go to the Trek barefoot, but Day 7 walk with my client--even walking in the grass--led to me burning the bottoms of my feet--do you have any idea how hot the sidewalk/roads are at 2pm? I admit I really do like my shoes.
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