The Beauty of Buying Socks on Amazon

Local Sheep, Globalism, and Late-Night Grocery Runs

The warmth from the dryer still lingered on my wool socks as I pulled them on one rainy evening last fall. The added heat gave me extra encouragement for my evening walk, so I eagerly laced up my shoes and dashed out the door.

A gentle mist enveloped the dusky street as I stepped onto the road. A gust of wind swept over me, but with surprise I noted that my feet withstood the wintry elements. Snug in my wool socks and shoes, I felt pleasantly warm and cozy.

Suddenly I was overcome with gratitude towards every person involved in the production, distribution, and delivery of these wool socks. As the wave of gratitude washed over me, I offered a prayer for each person who had contributed to my warm and dry feet.

Now at one point in history, I’d only be praying for a handful of people. I’d pray for the local shepherd who tended the sheep. I’d pray for the sheep shearer (probably the same person as the shepherd). I’d pray for the neighbor woman who carded and spun the wool into yarn. I’d pray for the person who lovingly knitted me a pair of socks.

Maybe I’d only be praying for one talented and very busy person.

But unfortunately, these wonderfully warm socks didn’t once belong to the local flock of sheep. Who knows how many people participated in getting these socks to me. All I know is that on June 7, 2020, being fed up with the world at large, I impulsively purchased these socks, along with a pair of hiking boots from Amazon so that I could escape into the mountain wilderness. On closer inspection, I discover that the wool is from Australia, but the socks were made in China. They were shipped across the world to my home in Virgina.

My “support talented artisans,” “shop local,” and “make it yourself” mentality grimaces at these facts. Indeed, one could write an entire essay on what these pair of socks represent. As the gratitude and prayer welled up within me on that walk last fall, these and other objections invaded my thoughts. How could I cherish and value something that went against my philosophy? Shouldn’t I be wearing a homemade pair of socks, made from healthy happy local sheep, who frolic about in a neighboring pasture?

But in spite of these objections, the thought struck me that since more people were involved in the process, there were more people to whom I owed my gratitude. Perhaps that was a hidden blessing.

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I was reminded of the reflections above by a similar moment that took place this past Monday.

It was after 10pm when I unpacked the bag of vegetables onto my kitchen island.

I hadn’t meant to make a late-night quest to the grocery store to binge purchase a giant bag full of vegetables after my 9:00pm holy hour. But after eating leftover homemade macaroni and cheese for a few days straight, I couldn’t get the thought of vegetables out of my head, and so I found myself perusing the produce section in the nearly empty store. When I got home, I unpacked my bag, and suddenly found myself having the same paradoxical thoughts that I had on that fall walk in my socks from Amazon.

A spark of gratitude for the vegetables sitting before me flickered in my heart, even as I pondered the disparate locations each item had originated from. Instead of bemoaning the fact that my kitchen island bore produce from multiple continents, I thought instead of each person involved in getting these items to me. Once again, I found myself praying for them.

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At this point I probably sound like an overly bright Pollyanna type, one who is so full of looking on the positive side that I fail to see the ugly truth of reality.

But here’s the truth: Most often, what you read is only half of the story.

Perhaps it’s my experience with St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae that impacts my writing style. Whenever my writings come across as super positive and optimistic, it is because these are my second thoughts. These are my responses to the initial dark and pessimistic objections I raise as I view the world around us.

If I were to restate the wool sock scenario, it would begin with a list of all the reasons I shouldn’t be wearing these socks.

My initial gut reaction is that nothing good can ever come from a pair of socks bought from Amazon. If I cared about quality, if I cared about sheep, if I cared about my community, I wouldn’t have chosen to turn on my values and wear these socks.

But as I teeter on what feels like the brink of moral failure, something in me pauses, and I reassess my initial objections. Yes, all of those objections are true. But responding to my gut reaction, with further pondering I would note that on the contrary, the Lord works through evil, even in the form of Amazon socks, and out-of-season produce from the four corners of the world. I can’t list who I prayed for, or how many people I prayed for, but I am grateful for the opportunity to stretch my prayers out, over the world, thanking and praying for the people who have bettered my life in simple but real ways.

May we remember to stop and reflect on how many people have contributed to the simple beauty in our lives. Let’s thank them, even if we never meet them. Let’s pray for them. Pray that one day we will be able to thank them in our Heavenly home.

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All that being said, and this is a very serious request, if you know of someone selling wool yarn from local sheep, please let me know in the comments below. I am 100% interested in supporting the local flock.

Some of my family's lambs (2013).