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Not Again!

Earlier this year (2017), on a Sunday morning, I drove to Church, bounced out of my car and before I walked into the building, I looked down at my feet. To my chagrin, I had on mismatched flats. Both pairs were black but each had a different embellishment so I knew the difference would be noticeable to the inquiring eye.

I dashed back to the car, fervently praying that I had left a pair of matching flats in the trunk! No such luck. The only pair of shoes in the trunk were a pair of my daughter’s stilettos.

Now I love a pair of stilettos. I have written about my womanish stilettos. But, it had been over two years since I’d worn heels (hip and knee issues eventually replaced), so I shuddered at the thought of putting on those shoes. But, in my mind, I had no option, so I teetered my way into the sanctuary.

Everyone expressed surprise that I was not only in heels but in those heels! As I contemplated twenty minutes of standing in those heels, I blurted out my truth, “I wore mismatched flats to church this morning and these were the only shoes in the car!”

After the laughter died down, one young woman said, “I might have some flats you can wear.”

Those flats turned out to be slides topped with fuzzy stuff. At this point, I did not care what anyone might think. At least my feet would be flat on the ground. Fuzzy slides it would be!

Since the day of that mismatch mishap, I make sure my flats match before I walk out the door.

Let us now rewind to this past Sunday.

I again was a part of the Praise/Worship team. I pulled out my flats and intentionally made sure I had matching shoes. When I arrived at the church, I stepped out of the car and looked down at my feet.

Yep, you guessed it! Mismatched. Again. What. The. Hades!

I walked into the church and the first person I encountered, I pointed to my shoes and said, “Yes, I did it again.”

Same mismatched flats! Yes, we all laughed. Again.

I did my best not to care. Didn’t work. I felt like those shoes were screaming, “Hey, look at us! We don’t match!”

When sound check was done, I rushed out of the building to the car to search through the car trunk.

One stiletto that belonged to my daughter, no mate. One black flat, no mate. One black patent leather medium heel, wearable, no mate. One black kitten heel, no mate.

I am not frantic. I am determined. I open a car door to the back seat and I search under the seats. I seem to recall the mates to those wearable heels under the car seats.

Nothing, no mates, no flats, no thing! When did I clean out the car?

I go back to the trunk and begin to tear it apart even more (thank goodness, I don’t have much in my trunk).

After much tossing of stuff aside, I find the mate to the medium heel (at least I hope it”s the mate but at this point I do not care).

Wait. I have not worn heels for Praise/Worship for almost three years. What if I trip! What if I stumble! What if I topple over?

No such incidents, I’m happy to report. I also now realize that I can wear heels on those Sundays I am on the team. However, I am in the comfort-first stage of life, so flats it will continue to be (with an extra pair always in the trunk, just in case).

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“Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”
                                                from “Rabbi Ben Ezra” by Robert Browning

Listen Up!

I am grateful for every day the good Lord has allowed me to live. But, I’m not the one who broadcasts my age. This is not vanity on my part. This is wisdom. I know that as soon as I become the Seasoned Sister, the Mature Maven, the Perfectly Aged Matron, the Dowager Deaconess, there will be those who will then want to put me in that box they have created for “the old folk,” and at some point I may begin to accept it as my destiny (rocking chairs, front porches and sweet tea sipped through slipping dentures). Sure, I now call everyone “Dear” and “Sweetie,” but that’s because I am kind and compassionate. Not because I am old(er)! 

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“No, no, no,”

I do not understand why as soon as a person hits a certain age, people begin to act as though they have hit some “use by” date and therefore should be discarded..

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News Flash, y’all. Until the good Lord says, “Sit down, Donna,” the purpose is still in place and as long as I can, I will continue to stand for Him.

It is true. I no longer have the energy I once had, and some things demand just too much of what little I do have, but as long as I can, I will. Yes, there are some things from which I will have to step away from, eventually. But until then, I’m will continue to stay the course. Besides, age is all about mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!

At least that’s what I’ve heard!

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Besides, I still look good!

Old people were young people before young people were people! ~Tom Wyatt