As I adorned myself in my Sunday best I noticed a hole in my Florsheims. I don’t know when, if ever, I’ve inspected the bottom of these shoes. It’s been eons since their purchase. They only get worn once a week for an hour and maybe to an occasional funeral. My plan was to wear them to my funeral…obviously that arrangement did not work out.Thank you, Lord Jesus,
For letting me out-live these Sunday shoes.
Before I take that final snooze.
When I hear them read the “Good News”.
It chases away all my blues.
It is You Lord, whom I choose
‘Tis You Lord, upon whom I muse.
You’re the one with all the cues
You’re the truth I cannot refuse.
Amen.
