My Favorite Shoes

One day there was a kid that came over to help clean the outside of the house I was staying at. I think he said he was 19.  Z noticed he was wearing shoes that were way too small and not appropriate for the work he was doing, not to mention they were girls' shoes. I was a bit disappointed with myself later that I didn't catch this.  In the picture you can see half of this black pair of shoes sticking out.  Earlier in the week Z had asked me what size my shoes were because his brother and someone else needed some. He asked me because I had explained how much I hate American culture, it's materialism and that I was ready to give and serve in any way that was needed. But unfortunately my shoes were too big for those people.  Most Hispanic people hardly make it to my shoulder.  This kid was the first and only Mexican I saw that was taller than me.  So when Z pointed out that he clearly needed shoes and would obviously fit into mine, I hurried excitedly to my room to get my shoes and took them to him. It's usually difficult to get me truly excited but I was amped because that is what I came to do.  He was definitely grateful and immediately sat down to put them on, along with some new dry socks Z had fetched for him. It was such a good feeling, especially since it was a sacrifice to give those away.  It makes me want to just take all the shoes I can find, and anything else, to pass them out.  I'll be ready next time.  Now I'm in the right frame of mind and I'll have a better eye for need. 

 

I loved those shoes. They were my favorite because they were comfortable, versatile and durable.  I've had them for at least three years and they served me well. Now that I'm not walking all over campus, I only used them lightly so they were going last me a long time, on top of the miles my bro and I already put on them. They were hand-me downs, or as I like to say hand-me ups, from my brother who is a year behind me. Those shoes have been through almost everything and they match whatever I put on. I've even dunked with them on. The point is it was hard to let them go. It would be expensive to replace them with shoes as good so now I have to come up with something else. No way I'm buying shoes, so I'll probably just have to wear old/dirty running shoes or wait until my bro has more hand-me ups. Whenever I look at the floor of my room in Texas, it always bothers me that are three pairs there, on top of basketball shoes, boots and old running shoes in my car.  How in the world is it okay for me to have six pairs of shoes, when some people don't have any? Or when this dude was wearing girls' shoes, girls' shoes that didn't even fit?  

Dang. It's Saturday March 16th and as I am typing this we are getting ready to go to two birthday parties.  I take a shower and get ready to leave.  Then I absentmindedly go to put my shoes on..........and they're not there.  I smile to myself.  All I have to wear is my old worn out work shoes, dirty with paint on them.  I'm not a person who really cares what people think but I'm tactful towards other cultures, so I hope I don't offend anyone.  It's not 30 minutes later and I'm already feeling my sacrifice.  Heck yeah. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"There's only one way into the Kingdom, and that's death." -Leonard Ravenhill