Her first pair came Christmas 2010: gold sparkling metallic ballet slippers. She was not yet 2, but they quickly became her prized possession. She wore them every day and even to bed at night until they literally fell apart. Heidi has another pair now, and yesterday I noticed they too have achieved the well-worn beauty of that first precious pair. It reminded me of this:

“Yesterday, I pulled the gold shoes out of the laundry, damp and smashed flat, and I shaped them and propped them, as I always do, on top of the heating vent to await their next wear. But as I held them, fingering the worn toe, no longer gold but worn brownish black, the soles thin as socks from frequent use, I thought of how beautiful they were just like that.

Worn out.

Beautiful because my beloved girl has worn the life out of those shoes.  She has delighted in them. From the moment her not-yet-two-year-old eyes beheld them they were her favorite pair. Worn to bed, to church, to play. In the mud and in the sand, on the sidewalk and on the carpet. Even in her bed.

She wore them out with love.

And I thought of something my pastor said a few months ago, when he attended the funeral of his 100-year-old grandmother. He stood above her lifeless shell and said,

“She wore that body out.”

She used it up, he said. She used up every ounce of her strength and energy, every earthly breath, in loving and serving, ministering and sharing, spreading the message, joy, and hope of our Risen Lord.

She used that body up.

And that reminded me of a funny quirk of mine that just then began to make sense. I love using things up. I don’t know why it gives this odd thrill, but I do. I love using that last drop of milk and tossing the carton, or squeezing out the last bit of toothpaste, squeezing that tube with all I have, or scraping the last bit of peanut butter out of the jar.

I love using things up.

To me, the sight of an empty jar, a worn-out gold slipper, even a lifeless shell of a faithful saint–these things are beautiful.

Because they gave it their all. They were used to the full.

There’s profound beauty in emptiness when it means it was used-up well.

All spent.

And isn’t that the goal of our life? Isn’t it to spend every ounce of our being, to get all used up for the glory of God, storing up treasures in heaven that one day we can enter into that which is truly life, and say,

Yes. It was worth it.

Worth getting holes in the toe. Worth thin soles. Worth getting tired.

Worth wearing out.

May we enter heaven’s gates in glorious exhaustion and hear, just maybe hear, the sweetest words we’ll ever know,

“Well done, good and faithful servant …

enter in to the joy of your master.”

Then maybe cast a crown and join all creation in praise to His name.

Maybe trade in those worn gold slippers to walk barefoot  …

… on streets of gold.”

{May we wear out for Jesus’ sake. Have a blessed week! Thanks for reading.}

2 thoughts on “Heidi’s Gold Shoes”

  1. I love this…the memories. the blessing. the slippers… the writing…. I delight in those little slippers! Please save them.

  2. Thank you for this post. I was just trying to explain to my hubby and some other family members why I prefer for my kids clothes and shoes to get worn out. I don’t like it when they purposely ruin things, but when shoes are worn out from use it makes me feel like I’ve been a good steward of our belongings. It’s hard for me to see the box of shoes my girls hardly ever wore the first two years of their lives. Hazel now has a brown pair of dress shoes with ladies bugs on them that she wears around the house everyday. I love the scuffed toes because they speak to me of pleasure and use.

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