Consider Your Old Shoes

I stepped it out the way I think, and feel, and am;

Every shoe I have ever worn has taken just that shape.

You step yours your way; I step mine my way.

I sit and look at it. I see more of myself in it than I do in a mirror.

It takes courage to consider an old shoe. ¹

Whenever I read this poem by Sister Mariella, I study my shoes. Mine do not show the distinctions Sister Mariella’s do. My shoes have been quite standard and stodgy. They served well my feet that needed support for walking a mile to elementary school and later to care for my feet as I car-hopped at an A&W root beer stand for my summer job for three years. Furthermore, shoe manufacturers had not caught on to the financial boon many styles and colors of shoes could bring them.

Sister Mariella’s life was, indeed, one of various styles and colors. Her personality and wardrobe after Vatican Council II resulted in her claiming and displaying her uniqueness that often entertained us, her community. Along with her unique shoes, she often wore bright, hot pink leotards and any color she found at the local Goodwill thrift store. Her comments and actions were as colorful and distinct to her as were her varied-colored leotards.

Sister Mariella’s poem nudges me to consider how I have grown into my own person who wears her own colors, expresses her views, draws from her courage to speak up, selects shoes that harbor her feet. My shoes have walked many miles of life and show signs of the road with bunions, arches needing support, some crooked toes and at times, pain. While my shoes might not reveal the events of my life that make them distinct, my feet do as they have become road worn. I look at them with humility (they have lost the innocence of my youth) and with gratitude for their endurance, willingness to try many new adventures, and acceptance of who they are. And I sit in thanksgiving that God has walked the road with me … or rather, I have walked with God who has said, “Come. Come with me.”

Mary Reuter, OSB

¹ “An Old Shoe,” from Blind Man’s Stick, Sister Mariella Gable, OSB

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