I spent several years in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, as a full-time volunteer, and for part of that time, I worked in an office downtown. My walking route to work took me past a shoe store a few blocks from my building.
Usually, I am not much of a shoe person, so the window displays offered only a passing interest.
Then one day, I noticed a pair of brown leather boots. They were ankle high, medium brown, with thick, cream-colored fleece rimming the tops. I could imagine the soft leather hugging my feet and how the fleece would keep snow out. From the first time I saw them, I loved them and knew I had to have them. I began to plot how I might make them mine.
The problem was that the boots cost nearly $200, and my monthly stipend was $50—and that had to cover my food, transportation, clothing and fun. I was living very simply, walking the three miles to work and packing a PB&J sandwich for lunch every day. Breakfast was oatmeal and dinner was usually rice and beans or homemade soup. I didn’t mind the simplicity of my life because I am frugal by nature. So why had these expensive boots caught my fancy? And why did I feel such a need for them?
Day after day I stopped by the window to stare at “my” boots.
My infatuation continued to grow as the days went on.
At my next monthly meeting with my supervisor, I told him about the boots and my compulsion to have them. Material things did not usually grab hold of me in this way, and I was honestly confused about the attraction of this particular pair of boots.
During that conversation, though, I had an “aha” moment and realized the boots had come to symbolize the things I was denying myself because of my limited income. As we talked, I came to see that I was adopting a worldview of scarcity. I explained to my supervisor how my God had always been so abundantly generous to me, and I rarely had the experience of “wanting.” But, there I was, coveting a thing.
This memory came back to me during Mass on Ash Wednesday.
Twice this week, I heard the Lenten journey compared to a space mission (pre-set time, limited activities, etc.). I wondered if astronauts use their time in space to look inward. Do they reflect on their actions and process the events of their lives to see if they need reconciliation? Do they set new goals? Do they seek a different perspective?
Preparing for Lent, I wondered if I could view Lent like a “space mission” and take a step back from life and gain a different perspective.
Perhaps the “boots” memory came back to me because it reminded me of the abundance of God. During Lent, I want to try to live out of abundance and not scarcity—faithful in prayer, fasting from negativity and generous in almsgiving.