barefoot in the snow

   the snow falls quietly and blankets the brown grass, dirty fields and all that is left out in the cold. i am reminded of the Lord washing my heart clean, white as snow. suddenly the desire to step out in it is overwhelming. i am barefoot. it burns. a cold burn. i lift my foot and see my print, clean and white. just an impression of me in the white, cold, fluff.       my step of faith. my walk in the spirit. 
    had i worn boots my impression would have been left dirty. and it wouldn't have been my impression but the boots.   dirty boot prints in the snow. much like my walk before being washed by the blood. my impressions of stepping out, in myself and not in faith. each one stained with dirt. stained with sin. stained with a dirty, sin film on each and every one of them.
   is my every step, through every day, a step in faith or am i more prone to wear my boots? prone to shield my feet from the cold burn. prone to shield my heart of the hurts slung around this stained world? prone to shield my bruised body so as not to accrue more wounds. prone to be quick to defend my actions and words to those who do not know where i'm coming from? to those who do not know where i'm so pleased to be heading?  yes. prone to wear my boots.
   i step into the snow again. this time both feet. promising to take off my boots more often, especially when i know hurtful words have a tendency to be slung. take off my boots and walk in the snow more often especially when my bruises are tender to the touch and i am near the fists that pound. take off my boots more often and duct tape my mouth closed especially when in the presence of those who will point out differences in my actions my words and thiers.
   another cold burning step and i'm reminded that i am not my own and yes, i am indeed an alien, alive and living, walking amongst the dead and dying. another cold and burning step and i am reminded that it's by fire that i am refined and made new. another cold and burning step and i am noticing two pairs of young eyes staring out the window curious as to why mommy is walking out in the snow. in her bare feet.  
   i turn and walk back in the house. "what are you doing mommy?" a small boy with wide, wondering eyes asks. "asking the Lord to refine me. trying to step out more in faith." i kiss the top of his head and run down the hall before i'm asked the inevitable question of 'may i step in the snow too?' because i know, just know, that i will, in fact, have to encourage it.