My Church Socks

Remember that old joke, "Those must be your church socks -- because they're hole-ey!" if your toe accidentally popped out of a hole?  I actually do have some socks I feel are holy, and they aren't hole-ly. 

What makes them so special?  They were on my feet, providing me comfort and warmth, when I birthed my first baby.  

At the time, there was a litle speck of blood on them, but it must have washed out -- it's not there anymore.  I don't wear them but maybe once a year, because honestly, they aren't really practical socks to wear with shoes.  They are thick, white, and have slouching, fat tops. 

When I do decide to wear them, when just plodding around the house, I pull them out of my drawer and hold them to my chest.  Then I bring them to my face and inhale deeply.  They don't smell like babies or blood or anything really, but the inside of the drawer, and they are so soft and pure and white, and they stir within me amazing feelings of that experience.

That birth was difficult, and there really wasn't much bringing me comfort, because I didn't know anything except to be a good girl and do everything I was told.  I think that's why those socks mean so much to me -- a tangible piece of solace, support, and kindness -- all wrapped up in a blend of cotton and polyester.  Could it really be that simple?

Off to smell my church socks...