Of Shoes and Prayers
by
Amy Steele
In the fall of 1999, I was a young mom with a busy two-year
old son, a colicky newborn girl and very little money for
extras. My husband worked for a non-profit organization
and we had always lived without many extras in life. But
a long hoped-for promotion had not appeared, and now we
were really struggling to make ends meet.
I quickly learned to cut every corner and stretch every
dollar to the last cent. We only had one car, and cut out
every luxury. But it was a serious exercise in faith to
make it through every single month. Even payday brought
little relief, as we knew it would all go to bills, diapers,
and food.
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I found myself praying for basic things we had always been
able to supply for ourselves through work. It was a humbling
and somewhat terrifying experience for two self-sufficient
souls like my husband and me. Although we never lacked for
food or for our bills to be paid, we occasionally had trouble
adjusting to the loss of our former lifestyle.
Winter arrived and my son’s feet went through a growth
spurt. I only had enough money for either tennis shoes or
church shoes, but not both. I sighed and bought tennis shoes.
I reasoned that he could just wear those to church as well
as play in them every day. But I was very discontent, and
felt ashamed that he would not have a nice pair of shoes
to go with the nice outfits his grandmother had recently
bought for him. I didn’t mention my little sadness
to anyone.
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On Sunday, we all went to church. All I could see were
little boys in handsome, pristine dress shoes. They were
everywhere. And there was my handsome little fellow in his
denim shirt, sweater vest, and sneakers that had already
been in several puddles as well as what looked like(hopefully)
dirt. It didn’t help that someone commented on his
fashion sense, no doubt thinking it was my son’s toddler
taste to dress himself that way. I swallowed my shame, and
resolved to find money the next month for good church shoes.
The next day I looked forward all morning to naptime. My
two urchins both conked out for a good two hours every day.
This was one serious blessing, as I could work on my Bible
study and pray during that block of the afternoon. As I
prayed for my family and thanked God for his provision,
I just jokingly said, “ And Lord, could you send me
some dress shoes for my boy?” I got a good grin out
of it and it enabled me to quit fretting. I didn’t
feel I was being irreverent, rather that I was enjoying
a shared joke with the Lord. I finally understood that it
wasn’t that big of an issue, and I could let it go.
On Tuesday, the doorbell rang. It was the postman, and
he had a small package for me. When I opened it, there in
the tissue paper was a pair of brown loafers, exactly the
right size for my son. My sweet mother-in-law had found
them at a sale the week before. The answer to my half-hearted
prayer was already enroute before I asked. The box was mailed
before I had even known I couldn’t afford church shoes.
That’s how loving and concerned God is for us, even
in the small things. Did the shoes really matter in the
long run? Not really. But what did matter was that God knew
my struggle before I even asked, and He chose to answer
my funny small request. What an incredible God to care about
tired, soul-weary mothers. The boost my faith got that day
was enormous and helped me get through several more storms
that came our way that year. It still helps me today. He
is faithful in all things, large or small.
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