I sat on the edge of my bed and stared into the dark cavern that I call my closet wondering what shoes to wear. I would be spending a lot of time on my feet and I wanted a comfortable pair that looked smart.

Most of the shoes in my closet were sensible shoes boxy, squared off and sturdy. With less than a dozen pair of shoes to choose from it was clear, that I am no Emilia Marcos.

The shoes in my closet were comfortable but ill suited to my sanguine personality. They tended to mask my fun loving nature and discouraged the attention I craved.

I moaned, "Why can't I find a fun pair of attractive shoes that are comfortable?" I tried on the only pair of heels in my closet and instantly remembered why I seldom wore them. I am told that such shoes convey confidence, femininity, and allure. To me, they conveyed pain.

The sandal is a beautiful shoe. It calls attention to the foot and demands attention. I had a wonderful pair they "bared all," and screamed for attention! But if the fashion police ever caught me wearing them they'd have jailed me. They were rugged men's sports sandals, durable, inexpensive and comfortable. I could adjust the Velcro straps to fit my feet. Oh, they felt great! They just revealed too much of the real me.

So I sat there staring into my closet trying to decide which shoes to wear when my brightly colored clown shoes seemed to cry out, "Look at me!"

"Forget you?, I replied. "How can I overlook you, bright lights in a closet of conservative shoes? You're loud! Colorful and obnoxious." (Wow, talk about shoes revealing your personality.) The last decade I spent many happy days wearing this pair of shoes while working as a clown minister.

Next, I pulled a sensible pair of Mary Jane shoes out of my closet and unbuckled them. I was sliding my feet into this boxy shoe when I when I noticed that they looked a lot like my mother's.

In fact, the similarity was striking. Not only were they the same style, but they had a similar wear pattern.

"Eeek," I shrieked. "I am getting old! My feet look like my mother's!"

Then a smile came to my face. Of course they do. She is the map I follow. Her steps charted my path, and her shoes fashioned my walk. She taught me how to dress, tie my shoes and use power tools. She taught me life's most important lessons.

I remembered watching her busy at work earlier that week. Her feet and legs were swollen, the result of severe arthritis. I could tell she was in pain. I suggested she sit and take a break yet she insisted that she finish first.

As I watched her I steps intently. I thought, pay attention Carolyn because, now she is teaching you how to grow old.

I buckled the black Mary Janes and stood to check my appearance in the mirror.

Just then my four year old squealed,"Look, Mommy, my feet look just like yours!"I turned to see Anna Rose wearing those painful pumps. I looked at my feet and I echoed Anna's words with pride, "Look, Mommy, my feet look just like yours!"