New Shoes and a Conference

After a summer of staying more-or-less at home, we’ve made some significant jaunts on three successive weekends.This weekend we went to the Twin Cities for a two-fold purpose: to attend portions of the Holy Spirit Conference in Arden Hills and to purchase shoes for my problematic feet.

Feet were the priority.That doesn’t sound spiritual, but it’s where I live and Ken is accommodating. He’s seen the difference when I have the correct shoe.

Several years ago I started working with a pedorthist in St. Cloud. MN, who recommended a specific shoe for my particular foot—along with inserts and foot braces. Before that time I hobbled around. His devices plus the meds for rheumatoid arthritis made it possible for my feet to heel. I now walk normally most days, and I’m grateful beyond words.

Unfortunately, styles change and the shoe he recommended is no longer manufactured. I’ve been okay because I purchased satisfactory sandals in a Fargo store--but the store has gone out of business and sandals aren’t suitable for North Dakota winters.

We accomplished our goal—I purchased a pair of shoes for everyday and at-home wear on Thursday afternoon.

And I purchased a pair for casual dress on Friday morning. You’d be amazed at how happy I can get over finding a pair of shoes.

Shopping over, we decided to visit Como Park and Zoo in St. Paul on Friday afternoon because we have a history, not an on-going history but an ancient history, with the place. It was a quiet spot we visited when our children were small. Ken could leave me alone—truly alone—in the conservatory while he took the children to look at the animals. I don’t know if we thought it would remain unchanged or not, but we weren’t ready for people bumping into people. Just the same, after our picnic we wanted to look around.

I took pictures of flowers, but Ken took pictures of animals. The orangutans in the tree didn't even open their eyes, let alone move a limb. The best scenario for me was two grade-school girls jumping up and down, scratching under their arms, trying to make monkey noises in an attempt to get a response.

Meanwhile, we attended meetings Thursday eve, Friday eve, and Saturday morning. Because my mind was occupied elsewhere, Thursday evening’s meeting is a blur.

Mahesh Chavda spoke at the other two meetings. He's ethnically an East Indian who grew up in Kenya, and he provided much to ponder. He didn't bring a teaching as much as a call to respond to God. A phrase he repeated several times, always with a twinkle in his eye because it embodies a truth we learned by rote in confirmation, said in effect, “The Holy Spirit thinks He’s God.” But recognizing the Holy Spirit as God and subsequently yielding to Him are a different matter. I felt God revealed something specific that I would be compelled to confess to Ken later—not a sin of commission but a mindset that needs altering. When God the Holy Spirit arrives and does His thing, He delves deep. Even in the life of a woman intent on finding adequate shoes.

We’d planned to stay for a healing service on Saturday afternoon; I am, after all, someone in need of healing. But we didn’t feel like it.

Later, I wondered if we'd missed something by leaving. Then I remembered Proverbs 3:5: Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. (KJV) Hanging around would have been doing what seemed right, but not necessarily responding to God. We were tired. God had helped me find shoes and He fed our spirits. He also revealed a deep recess of my heart that only He could understand and change. We were satisfied, it was more than enough.