I made my choice, turned and hurried up the hill calling out, "Excuse me, excuse me sir."
He stopped and waited for me to catch up.
"Uhh…. I was wondering if your feet hurt," I blurted out.
He looked down at the sandals as if noticing them for the first time. Embarrassed, he shifted his weight from one foot to another.
"They was the only shoes I could find," he said. "They’re not too bad."
We stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, then I started babbling, "I was wondering if it would be okay if I bought you a new pair of tennis shoes? Do you like tennis shoes? Would that be all right? I’ll bring them to you tonight. Will you be here tonight? "
My words ran together nervously.
He flashed a smile at me. "That would be nice," he said. "But I’ve got wide feet," he hesitated.
"Oh don’t worry, I’ll get wide shoes. But how will I find you again?" I asked as I looked around at the unfamiliar campground.
"Oh, that’s easy," he replied. "Just go to that building right there," he pointed and straighten his shoulders a bit before he continued, "and ask for Mr. Clarence Jones."
The delivery of the shoes took place later that evening. I had gone to the Wal-mart shoe department and after getting there, realized that I knew Mr. Jones needed a wide shoe, but I didn’t any idea what size to buy. Then I had a crazy thought – why not just buy a pair of every size of men’s tennis shoes? Maybe Mr. Clarence Jones wasn’t the only man at Spring Lake parading around in women’s shoes.
I went and got two buggies and picked out a nice pair of shoes in each available size. There were about a dozen pairs in all. A curious sales clerk asked what I was doing. After I explained, she commented, "That’s nice of you, but I wouldn’t go out to that camp! Be careful, you might get hurt."
Going to the camp wasn’t what was frightening me at the moment. I was more nervous about how my husband, Steve, was going to react when I walked in with all those boxes full of men’s shoes. But it turned out that he was as excited about giving them away as I was and decided to go with me to the camp.
Mr. Jones was waiting, as promised, and his eyes lit up with surprise when we opened the back doors of our van and showed him all the shoes he could pick from. He tried on a couple of pairs and found one that fit him just right! It was so much fun to watch him putting on those new shoes! He thanked me politely, but I assured him that no thanks were necessary.
"Consider them a gift from the Lord," I told him. "But there is one thing that I want to ask you to do before you go back to your lodge," I continued. "Go and find another man who looks like he needs shoes and send him to us."
Mr. Clarence Jones practically skipped away in his new shoes, pleased to share the good news with his fellow lodge mates.
Within fifteen minutes, we had given away all but one pair of shoes, one pair at a time, each person sent to find another with a similar need. With one pair of shoes left, a tall thin man, appearing to be in his mid-sixties or early seventies, shyly approached my husband. Glancing at his feet, I could see that he could use a pair of shoes. He looked at the remaining pair and shook his head.
"They won’t fit me," he said in a disappointed tone of voice. But suddenly he brightened. "But they will fit my father. Can I take them to him?"
Steve cast me a doubtful look. Was this going to be a situation where someone was trying to take advantage of our kindness? This man looked too old to have a living father. Was he going to try to sell them? Maybe he was going to trade them for something else, like cigarettes, a scarcity in the camp at that time. But ever the trusting soul, my husband handed them over.
With all the shoes now gone, Steve and I walked around together, hand in hand, fascinated by the hubbub of the main courtyard. Most of the evacuees were standing in a line of some sort, waiting. Some were waiting for medical attention. Others were waiting to use the phone. A large group clustered around a TV screen anxiously watching for news of their homes and families. A few played checkers, and down on the lake, some tried to relax with a fishing pole in hand.
In the midst of all the activity, Steve pointed to one person, a very old man, bent with age, walking very, very slowly toward the cafeteria. He was wearing our last pair of tennis shoes. He was also wearing a smile!
Comments
Feb. 4, 2006 - What a Precious Story
Posted by JeannieFulbright
You sure know how to make a girl cry, Carla.
Keep posting. Keep on going...God is going to use all these stories!
Feb. 4, 2006 - Wow
Posted by berrypatch
Thanks so much for sharing this, Carla. It has touched me deeply to hear first hand what you did at the Camp. I can't wait to read the next post......
Lisa in ME