It's all about perspective

I polish my own shoes. I know you may find that a strange thing for such a hip and happenin' girl as me to do. You may also see it as a lowly task. I don't see it that way. I have a completely different way of looking at shoe shining.

My father, a man obsessed with shiny shoes, taught me the art of polishing. I doubt he ever expected me to do it on my own, but nonetheless, he did teach me the intricacies of the shine and buff maneuver.

I began taking this skill seriously as an attempt to manage a very limited budget. Early in my career, I didn't have a lot of money for clothes and my shoes had to last. I also was a young professional, so not only did I need to prolong the life of my footwear, I needed them to look presentable as well. I guess I could have splurged and taken them to the shoe repair place and for $2.50 a pair they would have looked pretty spiffy. Problem is that I didn't always have $2.50 for such luxuries.

I also liked the idea of using a skill that I learned from my father. I liked knowing that something he had taught me was useful in my every day life. He was a fan of bestowing hands-on life lessons and his instructional techniques must have worked. I catch myself repeating his words and advice often.

So, I still polish my own shoes. And, last night I pulled out at least 10 pair in need of a good shining. I piled them up on the bed, spread out towels and unloaded my polishing gear. I went pair by pair, wiping them down, rubbing polish vigorously over each heel and toe, buffing off the polish to reveal a sparkling shoe.

I lined all of my work along the floor and gazed proudly at each pair. I remembered that most of my shoes are several years old, but my vigilant polishing had maintained them and I still wear most on a regular basis.

It's amazing to me that a chore so simple as polishing my shoes put so many things in perspective. Lately I have felt as if I have lost sight of what mattered to me. I worried that I was in a bit of a fog, not really concentrating on the priorities in my life, not paying enough attention to the small things.

This little task reminded me of many of those life lessons my grandmother and father worked so hard to teach me. I could hear my grandmother tellling me that anything worth doing is worth doing well. I can recall my father stressing that I should take pride in anything that I do and to pay attention the details. I didn't quit after the eighth pair, I stuck it out to get them all done. He'd be proud to know that I didn't wane in my dedication. I didn't lose sight of what I wanted to accomplish. Mamaw would delight knowing that I stopped to admire my work.

I wrapped up the evening with shiny, happy shoes and a renewed perspective.

The shoes above are my favorites, brown Sam and Libby clogs. Not the most glamorous of shoes, but probably my oldest pair. I bought them about 10 years ago to wear on a nine-day long trip to San Antonio and have worn them so much that they truly fit my foot as if they were made just for me.