Death does not become me. Last week I decided to dress cute. You know, the days when your hair looks great, your makeup applied smoothly, you shaved under your arms. I was getting sassy and I knew it...and was prepared to show it off. I have a routine, and shoes are my last item to put on. They are important. Even Cinderella says a single pair of shoes can change your life. They can seal up the perfect outfit and change good to great. I have this cute pair of sandals that I like. They fit well, have just enough heel, and make any outfit just a little more feminine. I adore them. I snagged them as a resale client from a friend, and I am happy with my purchase.
Two weeks ago, the heel came off one of the bottoms, and at the time, it
was so unnoticeable, I didn't do anything to correct it. The heal cover, I guess I should say. It's a small piece of plastic that provides non-slip safety for the shoe wearer.
Fast forward to the day I was getting all cute. I had my dress, my hair fixed, my makeup. Shoe time! I opened my cabinet to grab those sassy things that would wrap up the outfit as a perfect package, and encircled both of them with one hand. Y'all. (Let me interject by saying if a southern lady says y'all with a period behind it, it is a statement, a solid statement, a full sentence all on its own.) Y'all. Upon grabbing those shoes, my finger went into the space where the heel had uncovered and my finger touched something furry, round, with what felt like lots of legs. As quickly as I touched it, I saw it as well, and you-bet-your-bottom-dollar I dropped EVERYTHING I was holding with a quickness! As in, I literally opened my hand and let it go, subsequently it instantly hitting the floor.
There is something to be said about the unexpected, the unknown. A fear takes control and hinders us from reality. For me, touching the unexpected made me knee-jerk react. My mind took the dark road, imagining a huge spider laying in wait for me, and now, it was somewhere in my room. I imagined thousands of babies scattering with my drop and now they too, occupied my space. In a matter of nano-seconds, I had mentally left the house, leaving all contents behind, struck a match, and walked away as it all burned.
By the way, spiders are not on my pet list. Ever.
That unexpected, that unknown, isn't something we should fear. We shouldn't allow it to dominate or debilitate us. It shouldn't define us. Nor should it dictate how we navigate it. Fear intensifies the panic, and the end result is often more chaos than calm.
Peace is the lack of fear. Peace. There's a peace that surpasses all understanding, a peace that helps us lie down and sleep, a peace that allows us to "...go out with joy, and be led out with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” (Isaiah 55:12) When we embrace that peace and settle in nice and comfy with it, we find that the unexpected, the unknown, does not catch us off guard as much. And if it does, we find our inner spirits resting quickly again. That peace comes from the Prince of Peace, and if a Prince is handing out gifts, I want one too! The end of story goes like this: I did not strike a match nor did I panic-react where I ran out of the home screaming and flailing, though I was OH, SO, TEMPTED. I mean, dropping the shoe immediately was enough reaction as it was. Instead, I gently and cautiously, in peace, examined the shoe in the floor before I willingly picked it up. I found it to be not a spider with millions of babies, but the outer husk of a fallen chestnut, which produces from a Chestnut tree in my backyard. Clearly, I had stepped on it the last time I walked in the backyard, unaware it had lodged in my heel. (If you want chestnuts, you must fight the squirrels for them, however.)
Every one of us lives a curvy life. We never know when we should expect the unexpected, but knowing Peace is available to us, it makes the curves a little more easier to navigate. May you not live your life in the fear of the unknown.