Silver Shoes

They were bright and shiny. Dad was holding them in his hands and held them out for him to examine. He sniffed them--they smelled a bit odd. He nibbled at them. They were hard and he couldn't get a bite. Dad just laughed at him and picked up his foot. He held the bright shiny thing to his foot and said "it's a shoe, silly."

A shoe? Why did he need a shoe? His feet worked perfectly well. They took him where he wanted to go. They helped him kick up dirt for a dirt bath. They gave him something to stand on. And sometimes they were pretty good weapons to warn off those uppity mares who thought they could boss him around.

Dad kept working on his feet--filing the rough edges smooth, trimming them--just basic grooming and comparing the shoe to his foot. He even cleaned the bottom of his feet.

Then he felt a little pressure on his foot. It was like something was tapping of his hoof. It didn't really hurt. It was just a little annoying. He felt the tap on one side . . . then the opposite side . . . then back near the first place . . . and it kept moving across the bottom of his foot. Before he knew it, dad had somehow connected that shoe to his foot. "Now how did he do that?" he wondered.

Dad put his foot down. The shoe stayed in place. It felt . . . sort of nice. It even made him just a little bit taller--not a bad thing. As he sniffed his foot . . . the shiny thing stayed on his hoof. Hmmmm . . . interesting.

Dad picked up his other foot and started cleaning and trimming it. He had another of those shiny shoes and was soon tapping on his foot again. This wasn't bad. He did enjoy a good pedicure. It made the girls take better notice of him . . . and he was all about impressing the girls.

Dad was tapping on his foot when a huge horsefly buzzed by. It was near dad's head. Those things could really hurt when they bit. He didn't want it to hurt dad so he flicked it away from dad's head.

"Hey, knucklehead . . . you knocked my hat off!"

Dad didn't know he had just saved him from a nasty bite. Horseflies are evil creatures. Dad went back to playing with his foot, but his head was leaking. Dad must have something on him. Normally his sweat was sort of colorless, but now he had red sweat running down his head and neck. He tried to wipe it off for dad--since dad's hands were busy, but it didn't seem to stop.

"Quit licking my head!" dad said as he rubbed his head. When he reached back down to tap again he had funny red sweat on his hands. He wiped it off, but pretty soon his head was all red. Dad starting mumbling under his breath as dad pinched his foot again and picked up his tools. "I guess we're going to have to stop with just two shoes, boy. I can't see through the blood. Mom is going to be mad at both of us if she has to take me to have my head stitched up."

She heard the door open and head him call for her. "Honey, it looks worse than it is, but I need your help. Mister slapped a fly while I was shoeing him and I think he cut my head. Can you look at it?" Oh, yeah . . . it looked bad. He had blood dripping from the crown of his head in every direction. Blood down his shirt . . . on his arms . . . blood everywhere. She cleaned him up and handed him a damp washcloth to hold on his head. A trip to the emergency room was definitely going to be needed--along with stitches.

"What happened?"

"I was putting shoes on the stallion and he pawed at a fly and the new shoe caught my head. He was really apologetic. He didn't mean to hurt me. Don't be mad at him . . . he tried to make it better."

"At least it is where you have some hair so the scar won't be too bad." Let's go to town and get you stitched up.

The ER nurse and doctor just shook their heads . . . his horse swatted a fly and cut his head with his new shiny silver shoes. It's a good thing to have a hard head.

In life, we often forget what power the little things have to inflict harm and pain on others. We intend to "help" by pointing out a little thing--to swat an annoying fly, however we can cause harm without ever intending to do so. Perhaps we should be more aware of the ripple effect of one thrown stone; one thoughtless act; one hastily spoken word. One mindless action can take on a life of its own . . . and not always in the way we wanted or meant.

God help us to be mindful of the impact of our words and actions. Help us to speak and act in love. Help us God, to love as you love. So be it. Amen.