“Oh, Heck, Why Bother?”

A few years ago, the early spring day was warm and pretty. I needed to drive to the ATM to deposit a check and then to the pharmacy drive-through to pick up a prescription. The new warmth outdoors was wonderful. So I didn’t slip on shoes and enjoyed again the feeling of the accelerator and brake pedals beneath my feet, not to mention the gritty floor mat that alerted me, sometime in the near future, to take the car through the car wash.

One time a friend stopped by my dorm room and wanted to know if I wanted to go to the neighborhood market, an easy walking distance. I was ready for a break from studying and, glancing down, had an “Oh, heck” moment. My friend and I had a nice early autumn saunter as we chatted about this and that, and the path to the store felt so good.

On a sunny day, in a town where we lived, I went out the front door in my bare feet and began to unlock my car in the driveway. I had a short errand to run. First, a big, friendly dog appeared next to me, quickly followed by a barefoot neighbor-friend in PJs. Her buddy had escaped and run down the street, and she had to retrieve him before he got too far. She laughed about her appearance, as did I about my own.

About twenty years ago, I worked at home on a pretty weekday to clean, declutter, and gather donations for our church, which was collecting household items to send to a domestic mission. It's enjoyable to undertake a household project barefoot, feeling the surfaces of your home floors, driveway and yard as you accomplish something satisfying. I put our stuff in boxes and loaded them in the car to take to church.

I got the notion not to slip my shoes back on. There was probably no one at church, I thought, but if I saw anyone, they’d get a chuckle at my eccentric ways. Sure enough, two friends—the pastor’s wife, who was there to help with some office work, and the secretary—kidded me about my comfortable feet as I unloaded the boxes.