Yesterday I had a shoe crisis.
I’ve been wearing boots all winter. I love boots, but as the weather warms up I’ve had to find some alternative footwear.
I looked in my shoe drawer to see what I wore on my feet last summer. I found these.
They are soft and lovely and bright.
I bought them a year ago, when I was working hard at holding on to the colour which had come back into my life. The colours had been uncovered by the other. The man I wasn’t married to. He’d reminded me about just how much colour there was in my soul. Years of harsh light had caused the colours to fade and be forgotten. I’d become beige – or so I felt. He’d drawn my attention to all the colour that was still there, and it had started to be visible.
So orange shoes were right at that time; when he had gone and I was determined not to fade.
But yesterday, I felt uncomfortable in them. They seemed too bright.
I started to worry that I’m not, anymore, a woman who can wear orange shoes. Are my colours disappearing?
As I lay in bed last night I was thinking about the colour we all carry. I was imagining the equivalent of night vision goggles; a way of seeing the light and colour that radiates from a person. The colour in our beings comes from our Creator God and the flashes of vivid blues and greens, reds and pinks and purples and bright, bright orange and vibrant yellow, are seen when we are as He made us to be.
I didn’t wear orange shoes yesterday, but I did start to plan a party to which the people who never get invited to parties are given the invitations.
I didn’t wear orange shoes yesterday, but I did find reserves of patience and love which are not mine by nature.
I didn’t wear orange shoes yesterday, but I did share in community.
I haven’t lost my colour, at least not the colour that matters.
‘You’re here to be light;
Bringing out the God-colours in the world.’
Matthew 5 v 14, The Message