When I was little, I used to play a game in Church. I would kneel after Communion and stare at the ground in the aisle where all the people were walking back to their seats, and I would guess who belonged to each pair of shoes.

I would notice the shoes of the mom or dad holding the hand of their small child as they dragged them back to their seat. I would admire the pedicures I saw on the ladies and wonder how the work boots traipsing to the back of Church had gotten so muddy. I would take note of the shoe size of the grandparent who tiptoed quietly, and quite often, this game would end with me turning my attention back to what I was wearing on my own feet that Sunday morning. It wasn't until a piece of bread was being transformed into the Creator of the Universe on the altar that I would realize that my sandals or tennis shoes or First Communion half-inch heels were scuffed, untied, or not as good as the person's next to me.

This isn't a game that I play anymore, but I still get distracted. And I feel guilty. And I doubt that I'm the only one. So I'm going to try to use these thoughts and make them intentional and make them good and make them beneficial.

Direct your attention to the moment when the Angel Gabriel came to Mary and the moment deigned 'fiat' happened: the moment when she said "let it be done unto me, according to Your will," and agreed to bear the honor and responsibility of carrying Jesus - not only for 9 months, but for His entire life. Direct your attention to the story in the Bible in which an angel, in a dream, tells Joseph to take their small family to Egypt. They flee from Herod in order to protect Jesus, the small King entrusted to them. Direct your attention to Joseph of Arimathea, on the day he approached Pilate and asked for permission to give the body of his Lord, Jesus, a proper burial. He took care of Him. He respected the humanity given to all the world by the man who would have been much more comfortable in Heaven.

Each of these individuals was asked to physically move Jesus from one place to another. God came to them and said, "take my Son where He needs to go." He trusted them - in their complete humanity - to take Jesus to the next chapter of the story that would change the world forever.

When Mary was carrying Jesus, I'm sure that there was at least one moment within that 9-month pregnancy when she noticed, or had a thought about, the shoes she was going to put on each morning. I'm sure her clothes needed mending and I'm sure there were times when she wished she had something nicer. When Joseph and the family fled to Egypt, I'm sure there were some untied shoelaces or broken sandal straps along the way. I would be shocked if they didn't get frustrated with eachother and if there weren't squabbles over when they were going to stop for a bathroom break. When Joseph of Arimathea woke up one morning and decided to approach Pilate and request permission to move His body, I'm sure he spent at least a small amount of time making sure what he was wearing was presentable and in good order. He was thoughtful as he attempted to do something honorable.

These individuals were so incredibly human. The experiences they had were very different, but the humanity that they possessed was just like the humanity we all possess. They were distracted by shoes and clothes and presentation and although these three individuals were probably much better than I will ever be, I have no doubt that the challenges they faced were the challenges of humanity, which still present themselves to each of us today. In the middle of all these challenges, God came to them and said, "take me where I need to go."

Next time I'm kneeling before the altar, right after the consecration, thinking about whether the Sperry's worn by the man in front of me are knock-off or name-brand, I'm going to anoint those shoes and say a prayer for the man wearing them. Because those shoes, at the moment of consecration, become vessels.

Those Sperry's, name-brand or not, are going to carry the King of the universe where He needs to go. In that moment, whether the converse worn by the girl next to me are white or black makes no difference in the fact that they have been chosen by God.

All the shoes and clothes and humanity that frustrate and distract us in our daily life are really sacred vessels, chosen to take the King where He is supposed to go.

Where is He supposed to go? Everywhere. Take Him everywhere.

We already have that desire - to go everywhere. To move. To reach 10,000 steps in a day and then celebrate when our Fitbit reminds us that we've reached the goal. But how much more should we celebrate when those steps are taken after Mass, after receiving the body of Christ? When you travel that distance after Mass, those 10,000 steps turn into "10,000 reasons for your heart to find," as Matt Redman sings, and you get the opportunity to realize the mission you've been given. 10,000 steps while Jesus is inside you, to carry Him as far as and as wide and He needs to go.

If you've ever sang the song "Oceans" by Hillsong United, then you've prayed: "take me deeper than my feet could ever wander" - realizing that this depth will make you stronger, if only you are in the presence of your Savior."

Every time you receive Him in the Eucharist, you're given that opportunity. Let Him take you deeper - deeper than your feet could ever wander without Him.

You are human; you are flawed; your shoes come untied and you may or may not always like the way they look. But at the end of the day, you're the only one wearing them. Take them somewhere good. Take them somewhere bad. Take them somewhere human, and let the creator of that place make it divine.