Hyperbolic brushes

As I began my season of facilitating the youth ministries of a particular church, I felt as though I was stepping into a good-looking pair of shoes, tidy yet rugged, perhaps like a lived-in pair of white cross-trainers. The shoes which seemed to fit me best, however, tended to be of the more haggard, less rugged ilk. A pair of Chucks appearing to have lost a battle with an angry bear before being plowed by an eighteen-wheeler have always fit me quite snug with plenty of wiggle room in the toes. Anyhow, I was familiar with the young man whose place I would be taking in the role of Youth Ministry Equipper. After all, it was he who was chosen when I had first applied for the position only a year earlier. That's right, I was called up to replace the guy who was picked first for the team as he was being called up to the bigs. I'm actually painting the situation with an obviously ridiculous brush. This is certainly not how I saw it then nor do I see it that way today. Hyperbole is fun.