Still, I wore matching shoes for the first time in over two months today. Advil helped ease lingering foot pain. But after weeks of therapy, I may have finally found a pair of shoes that will allow me to leave my post-surgical boot behind.
While two healed feet for Christmas would be nice, I'll forever be walking on redesigned models of God's original blueprint for my appendages. Thus, they will never be Hallmark normal.
Never.
Yet while a cold clogs my nose and surgical changes hamper my stride, perspective invaded my privacy again last week, rocking my world.
It started with an argument over Don's clothing choice for a Sunday afternoon concert. He went for casual when I wanted a tad dressy. The marital angst bled into the new week where I decided not washing my hair for his work party would suffice as proper payback.
Please don't tell Santa.
The low key gathering seemed a safe bet for dirty hair. Plus, washing and brushing my hair would've only tired my already tired frame. Throw in the fact that every time I go through a surgery I realize I can stretch my showers out another day, and trust me, choosing a semi-greasy-up-do was easy.
However, I got my comeuppance the next evening as water washed over my frame. Craving clean hair, I reached for the shampoo bottle only to discover it held watered down remnants.
Overwhelmed, I considered my options but there weren't many. So with no shampoo in sight I did what I've never done before: I lathered my hair with a bar of dove soap.
Some of you may have done that before and it's no big deal. For me, it could be called a new low.
But it worked. And no one else knew that the sweet aroma from my hair came not from a bottle, but from a bar of soap.
Life went on. The sun rose and set. And eventually I realized that a full bottle of shampoo sat underneath the bathroom sink the whole time.
(So I'll definitely rethink future pay back schemes.)
But after walking around for a few days dove soap satisfied I knew I would make it through the holidays.
I love Christmas. The trees. The lights. The shopping. The music. But it's way too easy to get sucked into the frenetic energy that twirls in the air, raising expectations. I often push too hard and chase after the perfect Hallmark holiday, even though there really isn't one.
So I'll nurse my cold and slightly odd feet. I'll nap and wrap without bows. I'll kiss Don goodbye when he leaves to visit his daughter in Colorado. And on Christmas Eve, I'll sit through a favorite service with long held traditions that keep me close to the cross.
Because the redemption of the world didn't come easy. It was costly, painful, even dirty at times. Which is why I'll fight to stay dove soap satisfied, cleansed in the deepest way, imperfect yet redeemed.
And there, planted in the place of redemption, I'll enjoy a Merry Christmas, imperfections and all.
May the love of God hold you close as you celebrate His coming this weekend.
