Lonely socks at times resemble a man or woman without their lifelong companion. Either through divorce or death, one sock is left. I suppose the challenge for that sock is to find another sock that looks the same.

I thought I had my sock crisis licked when I allocated two drawers for socks. One drawer for casual, everyday socks and another drawer for Sunday-go-to-meeting socks: you know. socks for funerals, weddings, and church. Over time, I've discovered that socks are herd animals. They like to be with other socks. Now, one drawer is stuffed full while the other drawer is barely empty. Could it be the socks or am I having a difficult time telling the difference between casual and formal?

A little more about socks and me. I like white socks. I like to wear them around the house without shoes. I am not the only one, am I? But white socks have a higher mortality rate than any other color. They disappear faster than any other sock. A friend of mine nailed the culprit one day when he found his children raiding his white socks on a regular basis. Heads up: white socks are not community property.

Socks become like members of the family. Some socks are just downright hard to throw away. Sure there is a little hole in the heel, but the toe section is fully in place and there's nothing wrong with the leg portion. Who will know anyway? Wear that sucker until you feel leather!

No one will know until you are at a foot washing and someone wants to wash your feet. That happened to me while in Uganda last year. Out in the bush, I wanted to demonstrate the love of Jesus and asked one man if I could wash his feet. He took off his shoes and it was one of the holiest situations I had ever encountered. Proof, this subject of socks has a holy motif.

John Hatcher is pastor of Outreach International Center, 1091 South Jeff Davis Drive, Fayetteville, Georgia 30215. 770-719-0303