The following, entitled Red Socks, is one of the 86 essays that comprise this book.
Everyone knows the story of the Red Shoes. This is a story about red socks. A certain young man who was averse to the wearing of neckties and other formalities of dress was advised by his bride-to-be and both sets of parents acting in concord that his attire was to be formal at the impending nuptials. Reluctantly he accepted the cutaway, starched shirt, bow tie. It was not until the dancing began and friends lifted him triumphantly upon a chair that it became obvious to every one that he was wearing bright fireman-red socks. In the one area not specified by regulation he was asserting the freedom of his spirit. I commend the young man. Like computer cards, our social and commercial acceptance is dependent in part upon our being stamped, cut to size, sorted into categories. If, however, we lose all sense of personal will and identity in the process, we are lost souls. (I hesitate to praise the red socks too highly lest they become acceptable components of formal wedding attire.)
Your brief reflections are beautifully crafted and their deceptive simplicity disguises the profound insights of every one of them. You have the unique gift of being able to express deep theological truth in simple, everyday language. Time and again, on reading these reflections, I found myself thinking: 'That's so true! I wish I had said that'.