MY MOTHER'S FEET

I was sitting at a cub scout meeting last night and happened to look down at my feet. I sighed in disgust at my dry, cracked heels, my distorted pinky toenails and the overall hobbit shape of my feet. I swear my feet are as wide as they are long. My toenails are unpainted and my feet basically look hideous. And then I chuckled to myself.

I remember when I was in my vain teenage years, I thought to myself that I hoped I never had feet that looked like my mother's. Her toenails were never painted, pinky toenails were oddly misshapen, heels always dry and slightly cracked, and they are wide. I often wondered why she didn't put cream on them or attempt to make them look pretty.

Once I came across a picture of one of my ancestors on my mom's side, maybe my great-great-great grandmother. I commented to my mom about how unattractive she was. Her face was very hard and masculine, she was not smiling for the picture, and it was difficult to find a pleasing feature. My mom spoke of how once someone had said something similar to my great-grandfather, Joseph Peterson, and he quickly chided them. He defended her saying that her face was beautiful because it represented her hard work, perseverance, service and sacrifice.

I no longer have to wonder about the appearance of my mother's feet. Those feet have walked in a home without a father, over school campuses, in classrooms of all kinds. They have lovingly walked beside another's feet for 43 years. They have waddled through eight pregnancies, hurried to serve others, mostly her children. And now, they walk in a foreign land along filthy streets, carrying her to serve and teach about the Savior.


I chuckled last night BECAUSE my feet look JUST like my mom's. I LOVE that!



Now, I just have to earn them.......