Committed 

Forgoing shoes can be adventurous, because if plans change, you’re committed. One afternoon, as my daughter completed her day at zoo camp, I stood waiting at the gate with other relatives. I had left my shoes behind. But when camp was over, she wanted to visit the gift shop, so I obliged. I discovered that bare feet provided extra, helpful dexterity for negotiating the crowd of parents and kids as I kept up with a small, laughing daughter trotting among the displays of toys, books, and plush animals. Then we stood in line and I enjoyed the free feeling of my feet upon the busy shop’s floor while chatting with another parent. I did miss the humor of being barefooted in a jungle-theme place…

I remember seeing two laughing friends in our savings and loan place. One had business but kept being sent to other offices. The friend, whose bare feet made softy hasty sounds up on the tile floors, was along for company and hadn’t expected the errand to be so complicated.

That was my situation during an enjoyable visit to see friends in another community. When we left for “the fifty cent tour” of their town, I thought we were just driving around and so I left my sandals at their apartment. But my friends decided they wanted to show me their church and its ministries. We could've gone back for my shoes, but I figured, New textures to perceive! And my friends thought I was funny. We went inside, they introduced me to the church staff (who thoughtfully didn't ask), and walked through the church's sanctuary, classrooms, and ministries. The cool floors, stair steps, and sanctuary carpet felt delightful, as did the stone steps outside. Then we drove to the other friends' office at a church agency; same hymn second verse.