Feet

Today I will start a 75 mile trek through the unforgiving Sonoran desert. I'll cross over the border in Sasabe, Mexico and travel to Tucson, Arizona with a group of people.

I've been in Arizona for a few days now and the reality of what I signed up for is starting to hit me. Walking for six hours a day under the scorching sun. No shower for a week. (I'm sorry in advance for whoever I end up sitting by in the airplane.) Being surrounded by creepy crawly things in the dead of night. I should mention the heat again.

It's hot here.  

Inferno hot. Set a cup of ice out at 8am and it's melted within minutes hot. Feel the sweat slowly creep down your lower back as you're simply standing in the shade hot. 

Oh yeah, it's hot.

But then I remember. Thousands and thousands and thousands of others have made this same walk under the same sun and under worse conditions. Way worse conditions. No food, water, protection.

Oh yeah, and at the end of this journey I get to go home. I get to love on my family. I get to laugh with friends. I get to eat whatever I want.

This seven day walk is to remember and stand in solidarity with those who have crossed the same desert. Many of the feet who have plowed the road before me never made it home. Their feet never reached their friends and family. 

Precious feet of our brothers and sisters, made in the image and glory of God, are gone. Too many have needlessly died crossing this border. There is absolutely no reason anyone should perish for lack of water. Seriously. No reason. 

As I look down on my feet shuffling along in the desert I will intentionally choose to be thankful for feeling the sun burn my skin, my tired muscles ache and my dry throat cry out for rescue. Why? Because when I feel, I know I am alive. 

When you look down at your feet, what will you be thankful for?