I found my feet!

A few years ago I started experiencing some pain in my right ankle.  It wasn't intense, but it was persistent. And annoying.  Nothing really improved the pain, so after a couple weeks of it not going away I mentioned it to my chiropractor.  After a few different adjustments that failed to help, he told me my arches were falling, which were pulling on the tendons in my ankle.  His solution was custom-made insoles that gave me the arch support my feet needed.  I have dearly loved those insoles.  Not only did they help my ankle problem, but having my feet supported in a special way all day long was lovely.  I had better posture, better energy.  They were my secret weapon to conquering the world through excellent foot support.

Rewind to last August, nearly 4 months ago.  We had just returned from a week-long family trip to Utah.  I was unpacking when I realized a pair of my favorite shoes and the insoles were missing.  I emailed my parents a few times about it, but they claimed they never found the brown Mary Janes or the blue insoles.  I guess I had just decided I could live without them.  Replacing them really wasn't a choice.  Custom = expensive.  I bought some over-the-counter Dr. Scholl's knock-offs at the store that claimed to offer arch support.  They were better than having nothing in my shoes, but not by much.  My feet ached at the end of every day.  I wasn't in agony, but I really missed the days of comfortable feet.  I was thinking about going online and researching companies that made shoes with high arch support built-in.  The whole time the shoes and inserts were missing, I prayed. Maybe not daily, but often I prayed that those missing things would show up.

Derek and I went to Utah last weekend for a quick weekend get-away...sans children.  It was a beautiful event.  I might be addicted to forsaking my children for a few days and acting like a reckless young adult with my husband.  It was fun. We stayed the two nights at my parents' house and we never went to bed before midnight (we're paying for it, I promise).  The first morning we were there I was talking with my mom over a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats.  She pulled out a bag of stuff.  "These don't belong to anyone else in the family, so I wonder if they belong to you." It was filled with odds and ends--a pair of pajama pants that belong to my 3-year-old, a Dora poster my mom had printed off the Nick Jr website with Maren, and my brown shoes!  I snatched them up and peered inside--the blue insoles were there!  I clapped my hands and did a little happy dance.  I can't emphasize the ecstasy that enveloped me when I knew I could wear them again.  I asked mom when and where she found them, because each time I had emailed her back in August she said she had no good news to report.  She said she never remembered emailing me about the shoes, and now it doesn't matter.  I'm so glad she held on to them to determine if I was the rightful owner before discarding them, because she had already ruled out every other female in my family.  It was my own Cinderella moment.

I put the insoles in the Skechers I had worn during the trip, and I had to hold back tears after I tied the laces and stood up.  I had my feet back!  I am so grateful my prayers were answered and I get to wear my insoles again.  They may not be significant in the grand scheme of things, but in my life they are significant, and Heavenly Father knew that.  And He took care of me.