Boots were a reminder of love and self-worth

My daughter and I recently took a trip to our local farm and ranch store. It was finally time to get myself a new pair of work boots. I wasn’t in the market for winter chore boots. I already have a pair of those and they only leak a little if my feet are submerged in slop. Yet I wasn’t looking for summer workwear either. I am not ashamed to say my flip-flops work just fine in the barn for most activities (except for loading cattle — that is a story for another day). I was looking for something in the middle that is a little tougher than tennis shoes but won’t make my feet swampy on an average spring day.

Deep Roots

By Whitney Nesse

they aren’t that expensive. That’s just how much boots cost.” That was a rather sobering thought to which I replied, “I know. I just don’t like spending money.” thing Christ wants is to enter a covenant relationship with me. That’s all he wants from each of us. He tells us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).

After we checked out and made our way to the van, Abby asked me why I was acting like a baby. (Clearly, she is a tender-hearted teenager.) On the verge of tears, I told her I felt unworthy of spending that amount of money on myself.

It was not the first time we had had a conversation like this; but it hit a different heart-string this time. In the hours after our conversation, I realized my husband loves me like Christ loves his bride, the Church. I do not have to do anything to earn Karl’s love or contribute in significant ways financially to be counted worthy. I am worthy because I am his wife.

I no longer have to carry the burden of feeling unworthy. I am worthy because of my relational proximity. I do not have to earn love. I am loved.

Shoe shopping has always been at the top of the list of things I dislike. But it only comes second to finding pants that are long enough. I am taller than your average girl at 5’11”, and with the height comes big feet. So, it is hard to find footwear that is long and lean.

Abby and I entered the footwear section, scanning the boxes for my size. I began pulling out and rifling through the boxes finding boots that were too warm, ugly, steel-toed, or didn’t fit. Finally, Abby grabbed a box off the shelf and handed it to me, saying it was the perfect pair of boots. I pulled them out, tried them on, and much to my surprise, they fit the bill! Not too hot, not too ugly, and fit just right! I then asked the wrong question, “How much are they?” She told me and I balked — wondering if they were gold-laden!

We spent the next few frustrating minutes looking for another, less expensive pair and came up empty. So, I begrudgingly grabbed the box with boots fit for a queen and pouted my way towards the register, complaining to Abby about how darned expensive boots are.

During my mini temper tantrum, Abby interrupted me saying, “Mom,

I explained to her that when Karl and I were first married, we worked full-time jobs and were full-time students. I never batted an eye when it came to spending because I worked hard and earned a good living. However, once we started having children and I chose to stay home and raise babies and livestock, something inside me shifted.

For years I have been burdened by the thought that my financial contributions to our family are sub-par. For some reason, in my mind, I began to believe that I am not worthy of having money spent on myself because my financial contributions are less. Therefore, I generally shop for myself in the bargain bin or wear leaky winter boots because it’s not that bad. Of course, Abby told me that I was being ridiculous and contribute plenty to our family, and we went on our way.

Upon returning home, I told Karl about Abby and my conversation and my feeling of unworthiness. He graciously and firmly stopped the conversation, looked at me squarely, and said, “You do contribute to our family and you are worthy of a new pair of boots. Not because of your financial contributions, but because you are my wife.” He gently expressed that because we are married, we are in a covenant relationship and, therefore, one flesh. All he has is mine.