Pentecost +13 – Year A
In a stormy sea with the demons of the deep all roiled up with no where to go but after you; in a dried out well around which relationships are fractured rather than merged – we find ourselves looking for beautiful feet walking the flood and the drought with us.
When we acknowledge that we were sinking deep and find ourselves raised beyond what we and our bootstraps could do on our own, we know that beautiful feet have drawn nigh. Our hammer toes and athlete's foot scale and fungus under toenails and high heel shortened Achilles and flat feet and all the other bunions and plantar wart ailments become beautiful in their own time.
Finally "there is no distinction", all is beautiful. In this we live and move and have our being. Let your feet shine on top of the white caps and below a depleted water table. Whenever you walk where others fear to tread, fields of daisies spring up where'er you go. How beautiful your feet.