I carefully chose clothes to wear to church today. I tried to find something that is casual but respectful of an environment that facilitates the worship of God.

I wore nice slacks, a black top and a classy black and white jacket that hung unevenly and covered the areas where aging has not been kind. I accessorized this outfit with a black and gold necklace. It seemed a finishing touch.

Then I looked down at my shoes. I was wearing a pair of stable walking shoes with arch supports and shoelaces. They didn’t add anything to my wardrobe. In fact, if anyone had paid attention, they might have thought I’d forgotten to change my shoes after watering the flowers.

I remember that as a child I had two pair of shoes. One pair was called “everyday shoes”. They would often be saddle shoes or sometimes Tennis Shoes. We made some effort to keep them clean and even occasionally polished them but stain from cucumber plants, mud from puddles that begged jumping into, unmentionables from the cow yard and chicken coop made these shoes at no risk of being mistaken for our “Sunday shoes”.

The Sunday Shoes would often be patent leather. You could almost see your face in them. They had a strap that buckled over, not messy shoelaces.

I don’t know if it is a blessing of aging to not feel stable in high-heeled “Sunday Shoes” or if it is a loss to be grieved.

There is a sense of contentment is knowing that nobody is looking at my shoes. One of the benefits of aging is that you grasp the reality of not thinking so much of what people think of you because you realize they are not thinking about you.

So, I enjoyed worship today. I didn’t wear my Sunday Shoes. But I did encounter the One who guides my steps and knows my way.