My life is a worn out pair of boots

Saturday morning, I woke up and went about my usual morning routine: eat breakfast, clean up, and get dressed for the day.

I worked (with lots of effort) to fit my winter-grade wool socks into my favorite pair of old, weathered cowgirl boots.

Fingers in pull-straps, I pulled and wiggled my heel as my foot slid in.

But before my heel reached the sole of the boot, I cringed as I heard a ripping sound.

The inside pull-strap on my right boot decided to give up on me. #RIPPullStrap


These boots

I truly feel like I could write my own version of Eric Church’s “These Boots.”

You see, these boots aren’t my favorite because they are stylish or trendy.

They’re my favorite because they’ve been with me through a LOT of life.

And though I was pretty distressed when I felt a floppy pull-strap slip through my fingers…

I smiled.

I smiled because these boots have been a constant, reliable, and loyal friend of mine for the last 8 years of my life.

When life-long “friends” walked out of my life, my boots stayed.

When I was left with a severely broken heart, my boots were there.

When I struggled with relationships with my family, my boots were loyal.

When I wished my high school and college days away, my boots were there encouraging me to take one more step forward.

When I decided it was time to leave the military, withdraw from college, and “figure life out”, my boots didn’t judge me.

My boots will continue to stick with me.

My boots don’t care if I wear a pair of sweats, a pair of jeans, or a nice dress.

They don’t care if I decide not to wear makeup or fix my hair.

They don’t leave me when I make good, bad, or ugly decisions. (And Lord knows I have made my fair share of bad and ugly decisions.)

My boots aren’t scared to try new things, meet new people, or take a leap of faith.

My boots aren’t scared to take risks…

My boots are a comfortable place.

Whether they are braving a subzero winter’s night checking cows during calving season, enduring the horseback pack-out of my very first bull elk when I was 16, or “cutting a rug” at a summers’ night street dance, they’ll continue hugging and loving my feet.


My boots and I both have a “cobbler”

I know, I know…I have a habit of being inspired by animals and inanimate objects… I’m sorry!

But “bear” with me because I think you might relate to why I am inspired by a pair of old boots.

My boots may be a bit broken and worn out… but that doesn’t mean I have to throw them away and get a new pair.

There is a very special boot “life-saver” called a cobbler

I can bring my boots in and he can re-sole them and re-attach the sad, floppy pull-strap.

The cobbler can renew my boots to better than they were before I took them in.

And this makes me happy because they will still always carry the identity of the boots that have taken me through a third of my life.

And I draw an incredible parallel between my boots and my life…

I am currently a bit broken and worn out.

Recently, my heart has hurt, I have struggled to figure out exactly what I need and want, and I feel vulnerable.

And although I enjoy a lot of the activities and parts of my life… I also have felt a deep thirst that needs quenched.

The best news is –  just like my old, weathered boots – I too have a “cobbler”.

His name is Jesus

If I let Him, He will fix my brokenness.

He will restore me to a better version of myself than the version I brought to Him.

He will quench my never ending thirst with His love.

He will forgive me for my sins… and I will be saved by grace.

And my identity will never change.

I will still be Maranda Alaine… lover of the mountains, lover of animals, a daughter, a sister, and a friend.

I will still be Maranda Alaine… the lover of an old pair of Ariat cowgirl boots.

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Connect further

Thank you for reading, engaging, commenting, and sharing this article.

I would love to hear about your brokenness, your favorite pair of boots, or what you think about this article.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider subscribing to my website to be notified of the postings of future articles.

Until next time,

Maranda

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