Well, another source of torture for this trip has been trying to get my feet sandal-worthy. It all started with my Dad giving me a pedicure for Christmas. Another treatment later, I came to the conclusion that home therapy throughout the lifetime of my feet is unavoidable. (Wow, you would have thought that two pedicures would have done the job.) So, my home therapy (like the pedicurist) has been to get that cheese-grater-looking contraption after my feet 2-3 times per week. The bright side is that you don't run the risk of scraping your knuckles like with a cheese crater. And now with less than a week till the trip, I think my feet are flip-flop fine.
Oh, the high cost for tender feet! Last night I was scrapin' away and I thought about my heart. If it takes this much care and attention to tend my feet, how much attention should I be giving to keeping my heart in likewise condition. You know, I can tell when my heart is calloused over...for instance, when a harsh word spills over my mouth gushin' from my heart, or upon hearing or reading a touching testimony, no tears. I've taken a few layers of hardness off my feet and found a sensitive spot on my heel. Everytime I rake over or even past it, it sends shooting pain and even bleeds if I persist. Is there a spot in my heart that everytime the subject comes up-I cringe, bleed? Yeah.
Lord, some things are so deep or they happened so long ago that we aren't even aware of their existence or source anymore. Heal my heel and heal my heart.
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