These are the shoes I used for heavy-duty walking in Uganda (though often I wore shoes that were dressier, even when walking on dirt roads--and most of the locals wore flip-flops). I hadn't taken them out since I got back and I had an immediate bout of nostalgia seeing the red dirt on these shoes. Alex would have cleaned all the dirt off them by now, but of course, Alex ran off. And I'm in California where cleaning my shoes is no one's task, including mine.
In the midst of the confusion and sadness over Sally and Joseline, over Lambeth and GAFCon, I have absolutely no temptation to shake the dust of Uganda from my shoes. None at all. I realized yesterday when I was doing some supply work and included an illustration from Uganda in my sermon that there's still more to learn from even that small experience. I'm still working on it, and Uganda is still working on me.
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