abandoning the shoes

I have a confession. I am a faker, a liar and an impostor. I am a pseudo-backpacker at best. To be honest I have only spent one night out of thirteen thus far on this “backpacking” trip of mine, in a hostel and if all goes as plans I should be able to steer clear for another week at least. What's my secret? I know people, who know people who happen to live in Europe. Thus far I've been in a variety of homes which I far prefer to the hostel approach to travel. As a result I've seen first-hand Scottish daily life, the routines, the work, and a bit of fun as well. I've been well fed (including some haggis), and well taken care of to say the least.

I've lucked out and the sun has been shining almost everyday since I stepped foot on the wee British Isle of the Scots, leaving me with a pleasant taste of life here. Yesterday and today my sister and I came to stay at Blythe Bridge Farms, which is the home of her boyfriend, Collin, and his family. It's a beautiful place with rolling hills, stonewalls, and many many black and white cows. I am quite enjoying spending time relaxing, as I did this afternoon when we sat out in the front garden in the sun reading. No real schedule and no real obligations. This is the life.

I took a stroll down the road and couldn't help being amazed by this place. The stonewalls that divide one field from another are older than the country I call home!
It makes me feel humble being from North America as I think so often we feel we are ahead of the rest of the world, when really perhaps we are merely arrogant adolescents.

I arrived at a playground, quite similar to the ones I'd find at home, in fact I felt right at home. In the middle sitting between the slide and the monkey bars was a pair of black shoes that had been abandoned. I looked around, but there was no one in sight of the playground. These shoes seemed too large in size to belong to a child who had carelessly kicked off his shoes and ran home for his after school snack. These abandoned shoes made me wonder who belonged to them, and I wanted to know more. After a few quick photos I carried on to the swings, where I took a seat.

Continuing to look over at the shoes I couldn't help but think how they seemed so out of place there. They just didn't fit. I happened to have a copy of The Message translation of the Bible in my hand and opened it randomly to the story where some children were brought before Jesus. The super duper religious folk of the day literally tried to chase these little ones away. Jesus stops them and confuses everyone by saying that if we want to be with him, to follow after him, and live like him we have to not only welcome the children, but become like them. We have to become like little children, who abandon their shoes in playground to run on home without looking back.