My Sisters’ Feet

Washington Christian Church Ladies’ Retreat

September 17-18, 2010

Read  Isa 52:7; Rom 10:15

I have been blessed with six sisters – 3 “old” ones and 3 “new” ones. The “old” ones started coming along when I was age 2.5. The “new” ones I met just last summer. That is a story for another time.

So, what about feet? Pretty darned unattractive in most cases. Take a beating all of our lives. Many thousands of miles traveled by our feet.

Being older than my three lifetime sisters, Gerianne, Kimberly, and Michelle, I have watched my sisters’ feet as they have walked, skipped, ran, and sometimes tripped, along our family pathway. Unfortunately, Michelle’s feet were to travel a much shorter distance on our path; her feet coming to rest 24 years ago, next month. Feet that were useful even in their short lifespan. Feet that had a God-given mission. And a part of that mission was to be Aunt Michelle who loved her nephews, my sons. Those feet chased after and walked along with those of Ryan and David. The boys, who were ages 7 and 1, cannot remember her much, if at all. But I saw those feet attending to my children.

I have watched the feet of my sisters (and my brother, but this weekend is specifically for sisters) go from fairly useless chubby appendages that flailed around in their infancies—tricking the adults into mesmerization with their pudgy, adorable little feet cuteness (while mine were busy running around and getting into mischief) and being held, exclaimed over, tickled, –and good gravy—even kissed!–to the clumsy, jerky, unsteady little feet that struggled so mightily to become coordinated enough to finally gain some teetering locomotion, and then—ta-da—they were walking…and falling and getting back up. I was convinced they only learned to walk so as to hinder my escaping them.

Then, they had the audacity to learn to run! Which meant my own feet had to learn to run at a speed greater than theirs! Luckily, about this time—age 4 or 5—our mother bought my very first pair of Red Ball Jets! Now I could “run a little faster and jump a little higher!” Just like the guy on TV said.

And so, Robin, Geri, and Kim’s feet continued to grow. They walked beside Mom in K-Mart. Well, most of the time…a little girl who gave her name as Kimber LEE, became lost once. We were unaware until the lady’s voice came over the loud-speaker! Their feet were shoved into snow boots—handed down after me—stuffed with bread bags to help feet slide in easily. They came out from under us as we tried to run on ice. They ran outside; stepped on “pickers” in the summertime and were burnt slightly on the hot sidewalks; were cut on glass that someone failed to pick up; felt the pain of sunburn, mosquitoes, poison ivy, and too-tight shoes.

Being the eldest and admittedly not always the brightest—my feet went through a lot of “firsts”. To kindergarten, to church with Grandma and Grandpa, middle school, high school. And they had the audacity to keep growing! My sisters wear “cute sizes.” Around 6-7. Mine are far beyond that and certainly would never be called “cute.” In a sense, my sisters’ feet kept following me, however. Always behind me by just 2.5-4 years—always in my feet’s “rearview mirror,” if you will.   My stupid feet were the first to twist my ankle in an attempt to wear my first heels. To suffer a hasty retreat to my bedroom where I cried all night over my first heartbreak. Yes, my sisters’ feet would insist on following mine even along those thorny and difficult paths.

About that time in our lives, looking back, our feet somehow finally received the message from the brain that like “heads,” more than one pair was better than one pair alone. Our feet grew stronger and sturdier, rather than just larger. And they decided eventually to diverge from the family path—off onto forks in the road, daring to try treacherous and not-so-well-traveled lanes. Mine to marriage, first. Followed by Gerianne a couple of years later…

Kim’s feet at that particular time went totally wacko! They led her to an unproven path that led to the recruiting office and into those tres chic Army boots! They were in the Army now and learning all kinds of fancy maneuvers! Only, they went through a period of not being so adorable—and if she flailed them around—trust me—nobody wanted to be close enough to have to smell them coming out of those combat boots; let alone envisioning kissing them. Geri’s and my feet were living the “tough” life in strappy sandals and pretty colors of nail polish. I wonder if Kim’s brain ever wanted to beat up her feet? Eventually, her combat trained and booted feet stumbled upon those belonging to someone named “Edwin.” A few years later, Kim’s feet were chasing the tiny feet of little Eddie—soon followed by Janelle’s fast little feet. And then, Geri gave birth to the small feet at the end of Tasha.

My own feet were trying hard—and mostly losing—to keep pace with the very energetic, nearly tireless feet of two young boys. In their very young years, Ryan and David’s feet would not know it, but they would experience one brief privilege that would not be afforded to Tasha, Eddie, or Janelle. They were able to walk beside our mother—their grandmother’s–feet. Our Mom’s feet would be laid to rest just 11 months after those of Michelle’s, with Ryan age 8 and David age 2. My nephews’ and nieces’ feet still were in the mind of our Heavenly Father and the plans were not yet finalized. Their feet will have to wait to walk beside Grandma Jan’s feet until they can walk together on the streets of gold.

Both of my sisters’ feet have been quick to run (as fast as feet our age can) to stand beside mine. Now with fallen arches and tough calluses and too many miles on the pedometer to count. My feet have become awfully bossy! They remind me of their age…how easily they tire…and they have decided that heels are better left to the young. I don’t worry so much about that rearview mirror any longer. I no longer can predict which “firsts” will come to my feet. And if Geri and Kim should even bother to try to follow. My feet are content to stand beside and even behind my sisters’ feet when necessary. The pathway continues up ahead.

Our greatest strength now is found when we can run down the divergent trails, back to the family pathway, where we meet up and sometimes bring younger feet with us. My sisters have beautiful feet and we are on the family pathway that will one day come out of the towns and cities in which we live and meet up with the most beautiful Feet ever to grace this planet. I won’t mind if my sisters’ feet are in front of or behind mine. Just so they are there with mine—and we are with His. We will know them by the scars that those lovely Feet will bear throughout Eternity. Those feet that felt hot desert heat and traveled down a Pathway we will never have to go—that led to Golgotha.

And I will want to kiss them.

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~ by saginawrobin on March 20, 2012.

7 Responses to “My Sisters’ Feet”

  1. Oh how I have missed your writing. Nicely done!

  2. Very good blog! Do you have any hints for aspiring writers? I’m hoping to start my own site soon but I’m a little lost on everything. Would you advise starting with a free platform like WordPress or go for a paid option? There are so many options out there that I’m totally overwhelmed .. Any tips? Thanks!

    • Hello,

      Thanks so much for the nice words! I write more to amuse than anything else, though I am quick to stick up for my perceived underdog! Can’t stand it if I think someone is being unfairly picked on. And bullies need to be called out, right?

      Advice: Do what you LOVE. You truly cannot write what you do not know, on some levels. So, if like me, you don’t “know everything”, then write for entertainment or about how you feel. Certainly, we know our own feelings! Never, ever, ever name anyone in your post. You will make enemies, immediately. If I must label, I try to remember to use generalities. There is that whole libel/slander business…I don’t know your age, but if you are a student, then make use of teachers or other mentors. I would start out challenging yourself to write every 3rd or 4th day and see how that goes. Writer’s block is an unfortunate rare occurrence. Or store some up, if you’re in a particularly creative mode. Space them out a bit. Then, if you do hit a dry spell, you won’t feel unproductive or under undue pressure. Writing for money before you’re experienced as a pauper will put loads of pressure on you. Go with your gut, but temper the gut with your brain. It helps to have a trusted friend or family member give some feedback. Always wait a day or two if you’re critiquing someone. Like Facebook, it prevents regrets that way.

      I wish you the best and many, many days of happy writing. Thanks so much for giving my amateur ramblings a glance!

      Robin

  3. This is precious. There is so much family love depicted in the sentiments it hurts to read it. It hurts in a good way, you know? That closing paragraph brought it all home. Literally – home. 🙂 It left a lump in my throat. Favorite line – and it was difficult to decide on just one: “I won’t mind if my sisters’ feet are in front of or behind mine. Just so they are there with mine—and we are with His.” Thank you!

    • I am so glad you were blessed by this, Rilla! It was a very emotional effort–tears running down my face, at times. What was even more emotional was the communion service that followed. God’s Spirit was very present in that little chapel in the woods. I hope to read more of your posts, as well. Happy writing!

  4. […] time to take in a trying situation to see something beautiful. One of my favorite posts of hers is My Sisters’ Feet, and What in the Name of God? got me thinking about what comes out of my mouth. I also have to […]

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