Once upon a time I was a little girl curled up on the end of a brown suede couch with my mom, cuddled between the warm, soft fibers of my grandmother’s crocheted blanket. My feet poking from beneath the edge of that handcrafted hug, I always complained to my mother that I wished that the blanket was bigger so that I could cover my frozen toes. Many evenings, I would hop back and forth between the couch and the floor, curled up into a seated fetal position six inches from our wall heater, my legs and feet turtle-tucked into my over-stretched nightie as my back nearly seared from the radiating warmth. After thawing sufficiently, I’d move back to the couch where my mom would kick a little extra blanket my way and say to me, “Warm heart, cold feet,” referring to the phrase etched in ink on my favorite pink Cathy nightgown. My family was convinced Cathy’s author wrote that especially for me.
It’s true; I’ve always had cold feet, feet so glacial that their touch feels like blades across warm skin. Blame poor circulation if you wish, or blame the fact that I don’t eat much meat. I prefer to imagine that my heart is so big that it rations its warmth for the people in my life rather than for my limbs. And perhaps that’s not so bad. Warm feet are good, particularly when they share the bed with another person. But, a warm heart…well, the only thing better than that is a warm puppy. In fact Charles Shultz said, “Happiness in a warm puppy,” so it must be true.
Looking back this season, I hope that my heart warmed at least one person. My imperfections are vast and my tactics are unintentionally raw, but my intentions are pure. Sure, they say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But I don’t believe that. Heaven is lit with them. A truly good intention is so powerful that it begs action, so much so that a glimmer of it can often be seen in the failed attempt. And a failed attempt is simply the heart’s inability to warm the feet into action. Therefore, the only thing I can hope for as I reflect on the past year is that my world doesn’t “glimmer” so much that it means that I’ve let down those who counted on me most. For any time that my cold feet touched someone, I pray that my heart touched them twice.
I bid you seasons greetings, my friends…from the top of my heart and from the depths of my soul. You are my inspiration, and the breath in my life.
