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'.