Beautiful Foot

I never liked my feet. I ran around barefoot for a good 10 years before I was forced to wear socks and shoes. During those ten years, I had some tough toes. But I also suffered severe pain from my heels that cracked and bled. My feet have an allergic reaction, different than athlete's foot, when left uncovered. My dad often bandaged them up in long strips of white cloth until the hurt healed.

So my torn, bleeding and calloused feet really were ugly. But it wasn't until I was 18 years old that the truth about my feet was realized. Flying high above the lush forests of Madagascar in a six-person airplane, I was reading my Bible. Romans 10:15, How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news. It came at me sharp like a blade.

For it was on this day that I had spent many hours with abondanded and rejected twins. Nestled in a small village, twins were a curse and a taboo, literally thrown away. The forgotten ones. I'd spent the day in a rescue home for the twins. It was one of the first moments in my life where a tangible expression of sin crushed me, heart and soal, so tremendously.

From that day on, my feet became beautiful. And Romans 10:15 became my life verse. I felt like God had whispered a personal, tangible message of his love and dreams for my life. He took my uglyness and made it good.

So it's no surprise that at our last ultrasound, all Ben and I were able to see were feet, and more feet. Our baby was all folded up, and all he/she allowed us to see were feet. What beauitful feet.