Flip Around, Flop Back

Readers, I have a confession to make. Today, I wore... flip-flops. Not just to run down the street or finish a quick errand, but out in the world. I wore them to class! Some of you may be thinking, "Caroline, I know you feel bad about not writing, but this is wholly unremarkable." Let me correct you, it is entirely remarkable! You see, in my brain flip-flops live in the same class of shoe as Crocs. They are a species of footwear that is certainly sub-shoe; wearing them in public is akin to wearing slipper socks out in public. Everyone will remark that you look particularly comfortable. They may even secretly envy your comfortable feet as they hobble away in their appropriate footwear. But still, they will under no circumstances think, "My, what universally wonderful shoes they are wearing!"

So, today was remarkable, because, as has happened probably a grand total of ten times in my life, I got up, got dressed, and thought to myself, "I would like to wear flip-flops today." I reached back into the darkest depths of my closest and retrieved a pair of pink Mickey Mouse sandals.

Before you ask, I bought them out of necessity. I was wearing converse in the rain, and as it turns out that particular pair of shoes, when wetted, decides its sole mission is to ensure that no part of my foot is un-blistered. So I bought "emergency flip-flops" for that day (actually I ended up buying two pairs because I did the exact same thing the next day and didn't think to carry the first pair with me. Who knew it would start raining again?).

So today I set out across campus toward my drawing class, feeling entirely scandalous in my flip-flops. I kept expecting some kind of authority figure to leap out in front of me and shout, "Back to your dorm and put on some real shoes, woman!" But no such attack came. Instead, I became extremely aware of the dozens of other college students also wearing flip-flops. They were everywhere. They came from nearly every social group. They wore many different styles. And they all--or rather, we all--were united by this odd choice of footwear. "These," I thought, "are my people!" For a few hours at least, I was among the many who walked in the land of incomplete footwear. It was quite a revelation.

In his first letter to the Corinthian church, Paul writes, "I have become all things to all men, so that by all possible means I might save some." It's an interesting concept that I've never really explored before. Lately I have spent so much of my time trying to recognize what kind of person I am, what's my style, my passion, what should I pursue in life? Yet Paul wisely lets go of the superficial parts of himself in order to relate to people from all walks of life. To put it simply, Paul does what it takes to have something in common with everyone, so that they always share a common ground on which to discuss the things that truly matter. I hope I am never too proud to let go of my "style" and relate to people from all walks of life.

Truly His,
Caroline