Thoughts while Traveling

And so it was that I lived my life for me.

I was dillusioned just enough to believe that my introversion was overtaking me and being a homebody was the answer. Worse, I believed it was okay. Therefore, I cleared my schedule in hopes of hibernating and hiding from the world, lost in my library of books and the occasional primetime television show. Solitude was calling me, I believed. My porch swing and coffemaker, also known as the comforts and crutches of my middle class American life never cease to scream out lies to me and tell me that they are my refuge.

Then came the whisper. "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, HE is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust."

Oh, yes. I remember.

Soon after, a miraculous thing happened. All of these dirty feet started blocking my path. Showing up out of nowhere, fellow journeymen whose feet needed a good washing and a small dose of the Father's love lavished upon them appeared before me.

Then came the whisper. "Now that I, your Lord and teacher, have washed your feet,you should also wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you."

"I must wash their feet," I uttered in the deep crevices of my heart. " My porch swing will still be here when I return." A bit of my comfort zone remaining just within my grasp, I set out with my bucket and my washcloth.

Joy came back into my life just then. Instead of the cancer of self absorbtion spreading through my body, my soul, and my heart, I began to feel joy and peace infiltrate my being.

Today, in search of more filthy feet, I find myself now spending less and less time on the porch swing.

It is still there when I need quiet time with my Father, seeking refuge in HIM rather than IT.

The great thing is, I can still dangle my bare feet over the side in the breeze with a new joy in my heart.

~anna st.~