Scary Paths

"You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand." Psalm 8:11

The graveyard path stared me down. It was the safest route to school, she said. Yet, my first grade feet stood motionless--planted in fear at the opposite corner. I cowered my head into my mother's side. No words of comfort, no logical argument could persuad me to cross that street and enter the gates of death.

Then, the friendly crossing guard lady approached, holding open a small, black, silk change purse filled with rainbow sweetness.

(Pull up some courage and join me for the rest of this scary tale at {re}fresh...if you dare!)

The Shoe Rule

"Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." Exodus 3:5

We never made taking our shoes off before we entered our house a hardened rule. Maybe because my parents never enforced a shoe rule on me when I was growing up. But I do remember the households that did have a shoe rule.

Grammy had a shoe rule even though Grampy overlooked it all the time. She had rules for just about everything and it showed. Her furniture was covered in plastic, her rugs had plastic runners, her lampshades were even covered in plastic. With all that plastic, I'm not sure she really needed the shoe rule. A good broom or vacuum should have been sufficient. Maybe Grampy thought so, too.

My aunt's house had a shoe rule. We were greeted with "Hi there. Take your shoes off and c'mon in." Her house was more inviting since I could actually feel the carpet underneath my feet and the fabric of her couches on my legs.

Most Eastern countries hold fast to a shoe rule, like Japan, Korea, Turkey. Even Sweden adopted the shoe rule. In these countries, besides the practical mean of keeping the house clean of dirt, bacteria, and toxins, it has become a gesture of respect and politeness to discard your shoes before entering the home.

 I guess I understand the need for a shoe rule. It does keep the floors and furniture cleaner and even softens your steps inside the house. Myself, I prefer to go barefoot inside, especially in the warmer months, or to wear slippers in the colder months. But, I don't enforce a shoe rule on anyone who enters my home if it makes them feel uncomfortable (unless they're tracking in heavy dirt or snow). I mean, what if they have holey socks smelly feet? What if they don't want to bare their tootsies? I let them be.

God had a shoe rule. 

{Pssst! Tiptoe over to {re}fresh for the rest of the story, won't you?}