Jennifer Clark Tinker Living Faith

Childhood friends have a way of grounding me, of reminding me of things about myself that make me who I am. Sometimes they remember the strangest things though, things I would never have imagined would make a lasting impression.

A childhood friend just reminded me that I used to go barefoot. She and her sister (both of them younger than me) lived directly across the street from me when we were kids. She recalled how I would cross that pebbly street in my bare feet to go over and play. She still marvels at how those pebbles didn’t seem to bother me.

It’s true, I used to go barefoot. Even as a toddler my mother says she couldn’t keep shoes and socks on me. Throughout my childhood I only put something on my feet when I absolutely had to (no shoes, no service).

In the summer, the days were full with playing and we didn’t have to go anywhere besides each other’s houses. Whole days would go by without anything on my feet at all. By the end of the day the soles of my feet were filthy, dark as coal. I didn’t mind.

As a grown-up, I don’t go barefoot as much. I like my feet to breath though, so prefer sandals when it’s warm enough. If I go too long with shoes and socks on, my feet scream at me to let them free.

I want to be remembered for the Important Things, but going barefoot is such a trivial thing to be remembered for. She is right though, and that thread runs all through my life.

Remembering it fills me with delight. Yes, sweet friend, I used to go barefoot.