I Have An Issue With Feet

I don’t know when it started, how it started, or why it started. But I hate feet.
I hate the look, the smell, the touch…everything about feet grosses me out. I hate it when people touch my feet, or get near my feet. I hate it when people see my feet, and I’ll do everything I can just to hide them-under socks, shoes, and anything else it takes. I even have issues wearing flip-flops.
But one thing I have noticed-the people closest to me, can touch my feet. When my toes are cold, I stick them under Chris’s leg to make them warm. When I’m being goofy, Sam tickles my feet to make me laugh harder. Chris rubs my feet sometimes. My Mom and I sit with feet touching.
And I’m not disgusted.

What is this? Where did my disgust with feet start?

Recently we had an “Experiencing Easter” thing at our church. People went around, washing feet, as Jesus did to the disciples. I skipped out. I got up from the blanket I was sitting on, and left. I simply could not stand the thought of someone touching my feet, I couldn’t stand the thought of me having to touch someone else’s feet.
Ms. Monica also skipped out. We were standing in the kitchen, and she was giving me a hard time. Messing around with me, she asked me,
“Melodie, are you holier than Jesus?”
I know she was kidding, and just messing around with me. But that though stuck in my head.
Am I really that stuck up about feet that I can’t humble myself enough to wash another’s feet? Even though Jesus himself would?

The other day, Sam, Chris, Kayla, Audrey, and I went out to a spot to shoot a bit. There was water under a bridge. Standing on the edge of a rock, I made the decision to take off my shoes, and walk around in the water.
It felt good. There was sand between my toes, and I didn’t think twice about it. My feet were muddy and gross, and I didn’t even think about it. I simply ran around and played like I used to play as a child.


Chris took a picture of me, sitting on a wall, my pants rolled up, my feet bare.

Stephanie and I were looking at it last night. She says to me, “You know what my favorite part of that picture is?” “What?” I asked.
“Your feet. They’re bare. And they’re beautiful.
Your feet, Mel. They’re gorgeous.”

My heart wrenched at the though. Beautiful feet? How gross!
But thinking further-Stephanie meant that. Stephanie meant that my feet were beautiful.

What is my issue with feet?
They are used for walking on. They lead me places I couldn’t go without them. Some use them for hands, as they do not have hands. How would I feel without feet?

I don’t really know where this thought is going yet, but one thing-

This Summer, I’m going to wear flip-flops.
And I will wear them proudly

"And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written,'How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!'" Romans 10:15