10 Days Without Shoes
Do you have a favorite time of the day? When I was still in school, it was the moment that the bell rang. After I got married, it became dinnertime. Now, it would have to be reading my son a story before he goes to bed.
Almost every night, Noah and I climb up into his big-boy bed, lie down on his pillow looking up at the ceiling, and read a book. It’s not the book that makes it my favorite time of the day (although sometimes I finish a story by myself because he doesn’t want to read anymore, and I have to find out what happens). I love the way he cuddles up in the crook of my arm, and lays his head on my chest. I love the way he looks up at me with his big brown eyes, mischievous smile (all smiles are mischievous these days), and says, “Daddy, read me a story!”
When Noah was first-born, someone gave us a book called “The Rhythm of My Day.” (I alluded to it yesterday) It follows a baby throughout their entire day and after each activity (a nap, a meal, a diaper change, etc…) it says, “And that’s the rhythm, the rhythm, the rhythm of my day.” Normally, when I read that book I’m not really paying attention to the deeper message; I’m just trying to interact with my son. But today, as I’ve been walking around without shoes, that last line has been stuck in my head.
Every day I follow a rhythm. I get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to work, take a lunch break, obey nature when she calls, go home around 5ish, eat dinner, play with my boys, put them to bed, hang out with my wife, and then go to bed myself.
If I’m honest, thinking about people living in poverty is not a part of my rhythm. During a normal work day my mind is loaded with thoughts about projects, logos, scripts, and newsletters. The 300,000,000 kids around the world without shoes, or the family in Malawi making $24.00 a month are just not relevant enough to my life to make the cut. I have too many other things on my plate to focus on issues like poverty.
But just because that’s how it is, doesn’t mean that’s how it should be!
Today, my rhythm has been broken. Walking around barefoot has not only made me self-conscious but has also made me self-aware. Every time I walk into the bathroom and feel the coolness of the tile and the indentions of the grout, my mind shifts back to my lack of shoes. Instead of going to the bathroom, taking care of business and walking out the same. I walk into the bathroom and am confronted by the fact that I am blessed, and that there are millions of people in 3rd-world countries living in poverty. (And I can’t help but think that I really can make a difference.)