Gratitude for Soles

I am grateful for my soles.

I wish you could hear the sleep meditations I listen to. There are five of them, each fifteen or twenty minutes long. I choose among them every night. They all include variations on the standard meditation fare: mindful breathing, an affirmation or two, visualizations, and a body scan, “I will name a body part. Focus your mind on that body part. You will remain completely still: only your mind will move.”

I wish you could hear her describe the soles of my feet, how they carry me around from place to place and bear up soooo much. She puts such empathy into describing those neglected, unappreciated feet.

I walked sixteen and a half miles yesterday. It was glorious. Around mile ten, I became aware of a rubbing on the pad of my right foot. About a mile later, my left foot developed the same slightly painful sensation. Since it had been snowing that morning when I left home, I had worn my hiking boots, instead of sneakers, and thick synthetic sox. I regretted the sox, but I don’t own woolen ones (yet.). I trudged through the woods for six miles walking more and more gingerly. By the time I made it home, I could barely walk up the exterior stairs to Jim's office.

Upon examination, I discovered that the blisters were not serious and my feet feel much better today. But last night I hobbled around, not able to put any weight on the blisters. Walking up or down my flight of stairs took several minutes. Unfortunately, I had to use the stairs several times last night. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to go to church, since all meetings are video-conferences right now. I couldn’t imagine walking from the parking lot to the chapel.

It’s a little thing, really, soles without blisters. So easy to ignore, take for granted. How often do I think about them?  Rarely. But today I am truly grateful for them. Blisters are a minor inconvenience, even in the not-so-grand scheme of things.

I just want to say, I’m grateful for my soles.