32 Pairs of Shoes
Yesterday, I was scrolling through Amazon, looking at shoes. My mother-in-law had sent me a gift card for Father’s Day—an incredibly thoughtful gesture. But as I sifted through page after page of options, nothing stood out. Either my size was out of stock or the style didn’t speak to me. That’s when the question hit me: Do I really need another pair of shoes?
That simple question dropped me down a rabbit hole of reflection—and gratitude.
I was getting frustrated. Thousands of options, and all I could think about was how the $50 gift card wouldn’t even cover my usual $150 sneakers. I’d have to spend more. That inner complaint started to build—until I stopped and asked myself: How many pairs do I already own?
32!
Thirty-two pairs of shoes. Most of them around $150. Some closer to $250. Some I haven’t worn in years. Others I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought them.
Then another thought: How many men even get a Father’s Day card from their mother-in-law—let alone one with a gift card attached?
That hit me. I complain about traffic—but I have a car. I complain about gas prices—but I have a full tank. I dread the commute—but it means I have a job. One that provides well for me and my family. And still, I complain.
It’s in these moments I feel small—in the best way. Stripped down. I’m reminded to get back to the basics:
Tell a loved one I love them.
Call a friend just to say hello.
See a homeless person—offer a few bucks or a warm meal, even if my mind doubts their intentions.
Jesus said to His disciples:
“Take nothing for the journey—no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, no extra shirt.”
—Luke 9:3 (NIV)
To find God’s true essence, we must remove the things that get in the way. Even our possessions. Maybe especially our possessions.
I’ve been reading ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’ by Viktor Frankl. His account of surviving Auschwitz is beyond sobering. And yet, amid the horror and hopelessness, he found glimmers of something transcendent. He would speak to his wife in his mind—longing, loving, remembering. In one moment, crammed in a train so packed that no one could sit, he describes catching a glimpse of the Bavarian Alps, snow-capped and glistening in the moonlight. Gratitude and beauty, even there.
And here I am—surrounded by 32 pairs of shoes.
A loving wife of 32 years. Two beautiful adult daughters. A life overflowing with blessings.
Lord, I want to come back to just You and me. Nothing in between. Teach me gratitude not just in thought, but in grace—grace toward others. Help me live like everything I have is a gift.
Because it is.
Heavenly Father, Strip me of my self-centeredness and clothe me instead with gratitude. Forgive me for the times I’ve grumbled in the midst of abundance. Let me see with fresh eyes the blessings I so often overlook— A roof over my head, shoes on my feet, and love that surrounds me.
Teach me to travel light, just as Jesus instructed His disciples, So that I may walk more closely with You. Help me to be generous with others, patient in hardship, and gentle in spirit. Let grace guide my steps and love be the reason I move at all.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
