Bright red t-strap shoes with just the right height of heel, truly beautiful and they'd go with all my wardrobe of outfits. I just needed to take a closer look and that meant going inside the shop - just to look I promised my husband who was questioning the outcome of all this having heard the "just a look" phrase usually entailed the emptying of the wallet and economy drives on the food agenda for the next week or two.
"The price is too high for us but yes they are nice" mumbled the owner of the wallet in my ear as he steered me assertively past the disappointed sales assistant.
The phrase "to die for" was still in my mind and thoughts of lottery winnings rearing its head as we walked not less than two shops up the street and there in a vacant shop doorway I saw the old worn out trainers peeking out from under a pile of dirty rags and it hit me that these trainers were on the feet of some poor homeless of yours and mine and under the rags lay a human being, homeless and neglected and wearing these worn out trainers oblivious to the passing world.
Suddenly the shoes to die for paled into insignificance, meaningless material possessions, something that I would have yearned for in the past, but the dear Lord spoke to my heart that morning in Alicante.
Makes you think doesn't it that the red shoes were okay, but I prefer the trainers, and thank God for the price his son paid on that cross.
That day in Alicante was some time ago, but the Lord often reminds mehow I should change my attitude towards possessions and how he still speaks to me today in ways I can relate to.
I still love to shop but the phrase "to die for" is no longer in my vocabulary.
The above is a true account by Cherry Ripley.
