Sandals With No Feet

This morning, I looked down at my feet and started to cry.

Not because something was wrong…

But because of what was right in front of me.

Years ago, my mother offered me a pair of sandals. They were comfortable, practical, sensible sandals. The kind of sandals an older woman would wear.

At the time, I laughed inside.

I told her, “I’ll take them,” but secretly I thought:

There is absolutely no way I will ever wear those.

To me, they represented age.

They represented “old.”

And in my mind, they certainly didn’t represent me.

But life has a way of changing your perspective.

Today, my mother is gone.

She has ascended to Heaven to be with her Heavenly Father.

And those sandals that once seemed so insignificant now hold more meaning than words can explain.

Because now…

there are no feet left to wear them except mine.

As tears roll down my face while writing this, I realize these sandals were never really about fashion at all.

They were about presence.

About love.💕

About connection.

About a mother who once walked this earth beside me.

And now I wear them.

Not because they suddenly became stylish.

Not because I ran out of shoes.

But because they remind me that what we often overlook today can become what we treasure tomorrow.

I wear them in honor of her.

But this story is bigger than sandals.

It’s about appreciating what is still in front of you while you still have it.

Too often we spend our lives focused on what’s missing, what’s broken, what we wish was different, that we fail to see the abundance already surrounding us.

This morning, I looked around my life and realized:

I still have my husband.

I still have my children.

I still have my grandchild.

I still have extended family.

I still have people to love.

And that is a gift.🎁

Sometimes honoring what you lost isn’t about staying stuck in grief.

Sometimes honoring what you lost means loving what you still have with greater intention.

So today, take a moment.

Look around you.

Really look.

At the people sitting at your table.

At the phone calls you still get to answer.

At the hugs you still get to receive.

At the ordinary moments you’ve been rushing past.

One day, those moments may become sacred memories.

Honor what you lost…

by loving what you still have.