Fits Like a Boot

If you had told me that I would be really excited about a pair of Harley Davidson boots, I would have called you a liar.

And yet on Friday night, I was giddy to purchase these bad boys.

Jason and I went out to dinner on Friday night to celebrate our anniversary. He asked if I wanted to do anything else while we were out and about, and I asked if we could stop by the shoe store and I could look for a new pair of boots for Moldova. I have several pairs of boots already, but none that were very suited for an eastern European winter.

I had in mind the kind of boots that I should get. Some kind of UGGs knock-off. Cute, warm, and practical, but not particularly me. I tried on a few boots like that and was trying to decide between the grey pair and the black pair. I walked to the end of the row to check the mirror one last time and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the display with all of these rockstar leather boots.

On sale.

I sighed as I wished that I could buy something like that to wear to Moldova. These boots were me. These boots were what turn me on. These boots…were biker boots.

I am decidedly not a biker.

But I tried them on and they made me happy. The studs down the side, the buckle across the back, the thick, grippy soles that should keep me safe in ice and snow – everything about them made me say, “Yes! These are the boots that are traveling across the ocean with me!” My love for those boots far outweighed any hesitancy I might have felt about owning a pair of biker boots.

I love that they are both completely me and not me at all, because that is how I feel about this whole trip to Moldova.

Part of the reason that I’ve never traveled internationally is because I don’t really want to. In Christian vernacular, I’ve never “had a heart” for the international community. Of course I care, but it’s that detached kind of caring that allows me to donate money and to write about what other people are doing, not to participate in any kind of direct manner.

But I care about women. And when I was asked, “Will you come help these women,” that disconnected attitude couldn’t hold up. My love for women far outweighed any hesitancy I have about  being away from unlimited texting and flavored coffee goo and predictability. It outweighs my fears about traveling away from my family for eight long days. It outweighs my concerns about being the completely wrong person for this team.

So in thirteen days, I’m going to put on my new boots and fly to a city that I’m not 100% I’m even pronouncing correctly.

I don’t know if this trip fits me like a glove, but at least it fits me like a boot.