wearing shoes that don’t fit yet
– we should not step into something we’re not truly prepared for
There are instances in life when I feel so lost. It’s like walking barefoot, wandering aimlessly on a never-ending road. Then, one day, I found a pair of shoes. I tried them, only to realize that it’s too big for my size.
Yet, I still wore them, telling myself that it’s better than nothing. I convince myself that in time, my feet will grow into them. But with every step, the oversized shoe chafed and blistered. Then, I suddenly stumbled, tripping over the excess leather, scraping my knee, and ruined the shoes in the process.
As I sat there on the side of the road, my knees scraped and shoes in tatters, my feet ached, both from blisters and the impact of the fall. The pair of shoes lay before me, torn and useless now. As I stared into them, I felt a pang of guilt.
These shoes weren't meant for me – not yet or not ever – but I had been in desperate need to ease the pain of walking barefoot that I forced them anyway.
"Sometimes we’re so desperate for something to hold onto, we’ll climb a cactus just to avoid the fall." – Brené Brown
For a moment, I felt anger for myself.
So I asked myself, was the temporary relief worth the lasting damage?
Was it worth it to force something that wasn't meant for me?
Was I so afraid of discomfort that I caused even greater pain?
But it wasn’t just impatience – it was fear. The fear that I’d never find a pair of shoes again – of the pair that will fit.
The fear that maybe this was my only chance to find something, anything, to keep me going.
In my desperation for relief, I overlooked the cost only to later on realize that forcing something not meant for me only led to greater pain.
"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
I looked down to my feet, battered and bruised, and realized the truth of it all: I wasn’t just hurting myself; I had destroyed the shoes, too.
The shoes that might have been perfect for someone else, or perhaps for me, someday when I’m ready.
I thought back to every step I had with them, each one forcing something that wasn't meant to be. Now, after everything, I'm back to where I started – barefoot and unsure.
But as I sat there, I realized something else. The road hasn't ended yet. It stretched ahead of me, like it always did. Meaning, there's more room for hope of a better tomorrow.
Maybe I wasn't meant for the shoes, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable of continuing the journey.
So I stood up, wincing at the sting on my feet and took a step forward. It hurts, but not as much as I thought it would. With each step, I felt lighter because I didn't have the burden of forcing something that doesn't fit anymore.
The road was still long, but this time, I decided to walk it at my own pace with a better perspective, knowing that when the right shoes finally came along, I’d be ready for them.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time." – Ecclesiastes 3:11
