Big Shoes to Fill

I don't have much left of my parents. But I still have my dad's Bean boots.

They are duck boots, the kind without laces. Size 10.

My son used to fit into them—when he was in high school, he would wear them to shovel the back steps when it snowed. 

But my son lives in Florida now.

Nobody in the house wears that size. 

Still, I keep the boots in the mud room because I find them comforting. When I go outside for a bit, I can slide them on.

Of course, they are way too big.

I clunk around in the yard with them, stepping awkwardly, carefully. My feet bounce around in the foot bed. I wear them when I fill the birdfeeders or when I shovel the back path. Of course, in my dad’s boots, I’m clumsier than usual. I have to be super careful—because it’s easy to trip over my own feet.

But I like them just the same.

Do you ever wear shoes that are too big for you to fill?

Step into a role or a job that is a few sizes too large for you?

This happened when my mom passed away. She was the supreme grandma—the best at it—and I tried for a short while to step into her shoes. I tried to take as close care of the grandchildren as she did. That first year, I made Easter baskets for all of my nieces and nephews.

But I quickly found my mom’s shoes were too big, too.

They were vast.

I didn’t have the focus, the time, or the creative spirit to continue doing what she always did.

Ever find yourself in a situation like that? A time where you recognize you have shoes sitting in front of you that are too big to fill? 

Perhaps you are way out of your comfort zone. 

Maybe you’ve taken on a job that was just out of your reach. Or you find yourself out over your skis in a project. Or a personal relationship is far too complex for you to know how to handle.

In these moments, they say you have probably stepped out of your safe zone, beyond the learning zone, and into the crisis zone.

What can we do in these moments?

Well, there’s always training. But they say most learning happens in the slow path of on-the-job experiences. We can work with a coach or mentor to help us go further faster. Or we can bring a colleague or friend alongside who might be able to help.

Or: You can take the boots off, and step back into the comfort zone.

That’s not as exciting, is it?

We recently had a fire in our fire pit, and I wore my dad's Bean boots out by the fire. As I stood over the solo stove, roasting a marshmallow, I remembered that these were the boots he was wearing when he slipped on ice in his driveway so many years ago.

That was the beginning of the end of him being able to live on his own.

In these very boots.

I love having his boots. I find some joy stepping into the same space where his feet once stepped. It makes me wish I could walk in his shoes for just a day today. To remember what it was like when he was my age. I would love to know what he worried about back in the 1980s, what his greatest concerns about life were. 

 I sometimes wonder what he thought about me and my life at the time.

Standing in his shoes today, I know he would want me to make the Wardman name a proud one. He would want me to use my smarts toward a good end. He told one of my friends once I could be president of the United States.

Ha!

I don’t want to put those big shoes on.

For now, I’ll aim to grow more grace. I’d like to be savvier. I’d like to be a big person in challenging situations. To be more driven by aspirations and life purpose than by ego.

So, I’m going to keep bouncing around in these shoes I’m in. Keep learning. Keep growing on this edge. Keep getting uncomfortable. 

Actor Benedict Cumberbatch once said, “The further you get away from yourself, the more challenging it is. Not to be in your comfort zone is great fun.”

More fun? 

Okay, I’m game. Bring it on!

And thanks, Dad, for the boots.

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