Black Sandals

A few months ago, one of the heels of the black closed-toe shoes that I often wore to work was wearing out badly.

So I went to the mall.

I used to like to go clothes shopping; but now, not so much. The mall had become a place of strong smells - a mix of all scents of perfume, incense, candles etc. My sense of smell had been severely challenged and going to the mall had become a dread. But I had a coupon for a department store.

So I wanted to make it a quick trip.

I knew black closed-toe - and comfortable - shoes would be hard to find, so I did not expect to spend only 15 minutes at the mall. In the end, however, after some looking, and expanding my search to various shoe stores at the mall, I could not find what I was looking for. For the few pairs of black closed-toe shoes I saw, they were either too pricey or too not-my-style, or too uncomfortable.

So I resorted to anything black.

Then I saw this pair of black sandals. They were not what I was looking for, and they were not on sale (!). But my nose was complaining and my mind could not bear the thought of another trip to the mall - any mall or shopping place.

So I bought the black sandals.

They turned out to be the pair of shoes I have been wearing the most in the past three weeks. With my broken toe, my foot was too swollen and bruised for me to wear closed-toe shoes; and I would rather not wear anything even with the slightest heels. The sandals had been the perfect shoes. And now, I like these sandals a lot too. I am very thankful I had the sandals already before the broken toe. I would not want to go shopping, not with a broken toe.

Sometimes, what I know, what I think, or what I think I know, is best, is not the best. I thought I needed a pair of black closed-toe shoes because I had always worn them to work; but in the end, I needed sandals. I did not know that when I bought them, but now I do. This might be a small example, but in life, how many times have I thought I know what would be best for me, only to find out I really do not know - and that I am not in control anyway (see: broken toe)? And how often has God provided what I truly need?

So I need to trust God.

Broken Toe

Perfectionism is insecurity in art form. - Beth Moore

In a freak accident at home on Sunday night before bed, I broke (or sprained, I don't really know which one) my little toe, as my foot was somehow caught in the foot stool in the opposite direction I was headed. A fairly large area of my foot turned a light purple and became swollen overnight, making it rather painful to walk the next morning.

I don't think I am clumsy, and I have never had a broken bone, not even on the tennis court (where in my case, the injury risks are theoretically the highest). To a perfectionist like me, breaking/spraining a toe would have been a fairly upsetting moment because the whole thing came out of nowhere, it was of course not planned and the consequences were inconvenient. It would normally immediately provoke thoughts such as "how did this happen?" or "why were you not being more careful?" or "were you not looking?" or "this could not be happening. I have tennis this weekend!" So on and so forth. The kind of thinking that is unnecessarily harsh on oneself as a response to circumstances over which she has no control.

Strangely, however, I have somehow been very accepting of this rather rare occurance. Sure, I have to make adjustments (and yes, too bad there will be no tennis for a few weeks), but much worse things have happened. This little incident has only made me more appreciative of the many things (the ability to walk, good health, to name a few) I have had the privilege of enjoying.

It must have something to do with the lessons on (in)security I have been learning in the past few months.

I have always known I am a perfectionist, but I have also always thought it is part of the "package" - my personality (as a first-born child). However, Beth Moore's So Long, Insecurity has been telling me otherwise. Accordingly to Beth, all women have insecurity in some form; and perfectionism is one of them. I have never put perfectionism together with insecurity; but truth be told, the drive to do everything "perfectly" and according to plan comes from a fear of failure or a fear of showing weaknesses. Oh my. How my eyes have been opened to something I thought was simply a personality trait.

Under normal circumstances, a toe-breaking incident would trigger the perfectionistic mechanism in me. But if this incident means a new normal, perhaps it is worth a broken toe.

Celebrating Freedom

We had a great Fourth of July weekend with family.

We first spent a little bit of time with my aunt and cousins before my cousins went back to Hong Kong for a few weeks. It was a musical night as we played drums on XBox and listened to my younger cousin play the flute. Fun!

Then we spent the rest of the weekend with my sister- and brother-in law and our three nephews. It was a fun-filled weekend as we watched baseball and World Cup (and I snuck in however much Wimbledon as I could :), drew pictures, played ball/toy airplane/video games/Scrabble/magnetic letters, read stories, went grocery shopping (okay, that was just my sister-in-law and me, the girls), did dishes together, ate home-made icecream, and as a bonus, I even got kisses from my youngest nephew......good times.

But my favorite Fourth of July moment actually came a few weeks earlier, if that could count. At my baby sister-in-law's college graduation in mid-May, I happened to sit next to my oldest nephew. We sang the national anthem at the beginning of commencement. As we sang, I also heard David's singing. It was such a beautiful sound to me. Listening to adults sing those treasured words often brought tears to my eyes, but listening to a 9-year-old sing those words was in a way much more powerful.

Not only can we celebrate Independence Day by singing the national anthem and watching fireworks on the Fourth of July, but we can sing those words any day of the year. And even more significantly, our next generation has the freedom to sing it too. What better way to celebrate our country than this?