Toward a Theology of Feet
"I'm serious," he said. "Give me your foot."
They were on the ugly, yellow loveseat that his in-laws had given them. It was in the master bedroom so the kids would have somewhere to sleep if they got scared at night.
His daughter was lying on her back with her head propped on a pillow and her feet in his lap. She lifted one foot, and he held it with his right hand. He raised his left thumb and put it next to her foot.
"You remember I told you that when you were born your foot was only as big as my thumb?"
"Yes."
"Well, look. See how much bigger your foot is now that you're six? There's a lot more foot stuff here, see?" He lightly pinched all over her foot. "Where do you think all that stuff comes from? Where do you think your body gets all the stuff it needs to make your feet bigger?"
"I don't know," she said, looking right into his eyes. She was hooked, and he loved having her mind all to himself. His 14-year-old turned away from the computer to listen. She was hooked too, and it was like finding a second fish on the line.
"The stuff your feet are made of comes from food. We can't create or destroy matter. The only thing we can do is rearrange it. We have this handy little hole in front, see. You shove apples or bread or beans in there, and your body turns that food into feet."
"Even Skittles?" the little one asked.
He winced and stroked his chin. "Well…yeah, but better foods make for better feet."
The older daughter broke in, "Da-ad!" She made two syllables out of the word, changing pitch to show her skepticism.
His expression didn't change and she lost her confidence. "You swear?"
"I promise. Look, plants are machines that turn dirt into fruits and vegetables. We are machines that turn fruits and vegetables and other stuff into feet."
They were silent, both mouths hanging open. He let the pause hang in the air before his coup d'etat.
"So really, if you think about it, we're all made of dirt."
An idea snapped the older one out of her slouch. "Hey, that's what the bible says. It says God made humans out of dirt."
The little one nodded enthusiastically. She'd been to Sunday school. She'd heard that story.
"That's right," he said. "For an old book, the bible can be pretty insightful at times."
The little one was staring off into space. He could tell her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour.
"You go, girl," he whispered as he slipped out of the room.
The Preacher
8:56:28 PM 
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