This morning as I was getting ready for church, I glanced down at my brown boots and paused to admire how new they still looked. I'd worn them pretty regularly for about two months now. They weren't real leather, they were cheap boots. But I was okay with that - grateful I had pretty brown boots at all.
Upon entering the church, while herding my three little ones in as my husband held the door, I stepped up and scuffed the front of my boot! Oh the irony! I had just been admiring how smooth and unmarked they were! My frustration set in quickly, as we slipped in 5 minutes late and found a seat. I sat there, trying to feel okay that the permanent mark had begun the slow process of diminishing my pretty brown boots. But no matter how I tried to feel better, I was still feeling frustrated and angry. As I sat there, staring at the scuff it hit me.
I am that scuff. And that is exactly why I am here. Right now. About to take the sacrament.
Wow. I, like my boots, will be scuffed and torn and broken down.
But unlike my boots, I can still be able to be made whole.
Clean.
New.
Comfort washed over me. And acceptance of my scuff. How grateful I am for this little reminder, and for the knowledge I have of a loving Heavenly Father and Savior.
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