To the Woman who will give me a pedicure :
I know that when you see my feet…you’ll question why you went to cosmetology school in the first place. You’ll contemplate getting out a buzz saw or a power sander to get the job done…because you’d be worried that I’d break your pumice stone. Between the cracked skin, calluses, and chipped nail polish you’ll die a little inside when you realize that you’re the next on rotation for a client.
But let me tell you a little bit about what these feet have walked through, first.
You see, these feet have gone the distance. Mud, puddles, glass, they’ve met them all. Every callus has a story. Every scar, a memory. My feet have walked the streets of a city in Guatemala. Trudging through puddles during thunderstorms…walking the halls of an emergency room…climbing atop ancient Mayan Ruins. They’ve taken me to heights of upward to 120ft…and took the brunt of my injuries when I fell. These feet wear the evidence of a real life miracle. These feet have suffered the pain of a torn ligament and 3rd degree burns because of said fall.
These feet have walked upon the hard Honduran soil…they’ve gotten sunburn from the hours I spent landscaping the home of some rescued street boys. These feet have walked past the dumpsters of a bus station, down into a trash-house community…where they shuffled around the paint thinner soaked soil…chasing after children who normally receive little to no attention from their high parents. These feet have helped me to prop up a little girl with Cerebral Palsy…who was crying because her biological mom left her…again…with her healthy baby sister in tow.
These feet have climbed the staircase to a church in Nicaragua…everyday the number of steps seemed more and more. They walked 30 minutes to and from Internet so that I could talk to my family at home. These feet travelled to a nursing home…a school…a village. They attempted again, and again, and again to balance my body on a surfboard…to no avail. Step by step I took these feet to the top of a volcano, facing my fear of heights I used them to steer my sled as I slid down the black gravel 45-degree-angled slope for half a mile. These feet stood firm when everything else in my body wanted to collapse from hearing the news of my dad’s cancer diagnosis on one of the last days of the month.
These feet sprinted into the arms of my boyfriend, who flew from Detroit, MI to Los Angeles, CA, for the first time in three months. Feeling weightless, they walked me around, arm in arm with Jacob for a glorious 4.5 hours. Stretching to my tippy toes, these feet hugged him goodbye for the second time that year…for what would be 8 long months. Almost on autopilot, these feet alined themselves with the Lords will and guided me onto the plane to Hong Kong…and away from my chance to be home with my family and father.
Breathing in the ocean air, these feet stretched their toes into the soft sand in Puerta Gallera, Philippines. They propelled me forward in the ocean water on a clear waveless evening. They helped me to stay afloat when the typhoon caused the waves to rise far beyond what I’d ever experienced before. These feet crashed Filipino weddings…and moved to the beat of the music when we were asked to dance with complete strangers. These feet walked through the jungle to a waterfall that poured into a crystal clear pool, where we swam with children from church. These feet kept steady when I waded through the local river to hand wash my laundry against a rock. Up and down I jumped when I heard the news that my father was healed from his cancer.
These feet walked proudly into the water of Pattaya, Thailand, where I was baptized in front of my family of 50+ people. These feet walked the streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand…treading carefully as I watched in amazement as 30,000 paper lanterns painted the night sky. These feet have been snacked on by very large fire ants, and brushed up against the tigers that I had the opportunity to pet. These feet have rested on the back of an elephants head, as it carried us around on a beautiful path. These feet have been stabbed by the barbs of a bamboo stalk…and have broken out in hives because of the grass I had been cutting at a girls home in the area.
These feet walked the dirty streets of Cambodia…searching for contacts and ministries that the world race could partner with in the future. They’ve explored the inner parts of the ancient city of Angkor Wat. They’ve tensed in preparation to run from a little boy who was being used in Human Trafficking…who wanted desperately to hurt us to get what he wanted. These feet have joined little, shoeless, feet while serving over 100 street kids frozen yogurt on Christmas Eve. These feet led me to a house where we were welcomed for Christmas, and for a second…these feet felt a little more at home. These feet helped me to walk an abandoned Olympic Stadium. They’ve kicked, shuffled, and bounced as me and my friends rang in the new year while dancing and watching fireworks from our hotel rooftop.
These feet have almost been run over by countless motorcycles in Ho Chi Min, Vietnam. They’ve walked to and from the bus stop, everyday. These feet have walked the streets of “Foreigner Road”…and have witness sex trafficking…hopelessness…and child slavery. These feet walked to and from ministry, team times, one on ones, when all I wanted to do was go home. These feet didn’t see the floor much because of the parasite I got from Cambodia. These feet dragged me to the beaches of VungTao, Vietnam…where hard conversations were had. They walked the beach everyday…and felt the cool refreshing water as the waves swallowed them whole.
These feet found themselves on a team with 5 new pairs of feet…and then traveled to India. They kept me firm and sturdy as the first few days at ministry involved holding a fragile 3-month-old who weighed just about 4lbs. They paced the floors of the orphanage as they waited for the precious cargo to fall asleep. These feet stepped in everything you can imagine…blood, poop, watermelon, you name it…they stepped in it. These feet climbed stair after stair in the house…doing anything they could to help the ministry. As tears streamed down my cheeks, these feet led me away from my precious baby…the beautiful house, and incredible ministry that I had fallen in love with…and to the airport.
These feet froze as week walked out of the airport into the cold, rainy, Nepali weather. For the first time in 8 months, they were bundled up in two pairs of socks in order for them to keep warm at night. These feet walked 3.5 miles for internet because the whole city had lost power…and there was an internet cafe that had a generator, so we’d be able to talk to our loved ones back home. These feet walked 8 miles into the Nepali bush, wading through a crystal clear river 14 times. They gripped the earth as I climbed up steep embankments in order to get to the small Nepali village where we stayed for 10 days. These feet lived a village, barefoot life. They enjoyed the cool water of the river on the hottest days. They remembered the day they lost their footing in Guatemala, and helped me to overcome the shame I felt from being afraid of climbing.
Now, these feet are in Africa. Exploring the land…walking within touching distance of Zebra’s. Riding in the back of a large Jeep during an African Safari in Botswana. Dancing in an African Church. They scurry after african children when this crazy “mzungu” tries to high five them. They've walked the streets of villages…allowing the light of Jesus to spread to the unreached.
You see…these feet have been through more in one year than they have my entire life. These feet have bore me up when everything else felt weak. The Lord used these feet to get me to places I could have only dreamed about. He used them to cross oceans, mountains, and rivers. These are no ordinary feet. These feet have seen, first hand, true love. These feet have seen deep pain. These feet have been covered in mud, water, blood, sweat, and tears. They’ve suffered mosquito bites…sunburn…blisters…and burns. They’ve walked on the soft Guatemalan dirt…the rocky Honduran soil…the streets of Nicaragua…the beaches in the Philippines…the city streets of Thailand…the dark paths of the Cambodian Genocide…the alley ways of Vietnam…the halls of an Indian Orphanage…the mountains of Nepal…and the red dirt in Africa…and soon, American Soil.
I know that this will probably be one of the more difficult pedicures you’ve ever done. But you should know that I’m not ashamed of these feet. Because judging by the looks of them, I did everything I was called to do. The feet of the disciples…of Jesus…can’t have been pretty either. But they reached thousands.
I can only hope to have reached a few on this journey.
And I can only hope to reach a few more.
With these feet.
Romans 10:15 – "And how will anyone go and tell them without being sent? That is why the scriptures say, "How beautiful are the feet of messengers who bring good news!"
Isaiah 52 : 7 – "How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who brings good news, the good news of peace and salvation, the news that the God of Israel reigns!"
