I like to walk barefoot through the parsonage.
Carpet, wood, laminate, tile—each surface speaking in its own quiet way.
When my feet touch the floor, nothing stands between us.
Skin meets surface.
The body knows something the mind often forgets.
In that small act I feel the connection to the ground beneath me.
Not just the floorboards of the house, but the earth that holds them,
and the deeper ground that holds us all.
Through my body I “see.”
The contact itself becomes a teacher.
I am part of this world—
connected to it in every step.
And yet I remain myself,
a particular life walking across the shared ground.
Both are true at once:
belonging and uniqueness,
connection and particularity,
the field and the one who moves within it.
Perhaps this is always the case.
We are never separate from the ground that carries us,
even when we forget to feel it.
Sometimes all it takes
is walking barefoot
to remember.
Infinitely Precious 