The Gold Shoes
It was only a few days before Christmas and here I was still shopping. The cars packed the parking lot of our local discount store. Inside the store, it was even worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed the aisles.
"Why did I come today?" I wondered. My feet ached, my head was stuffy and I felt like going home. My Christmas list was down to those last few names. You know the ones. The people who claimed they didn't want anything but whose feelings would be hurt if you didn't get them a gift. It had to be the busy day of the year. This was not a day for Christmas joy!!
Hurriedly, I filled my shopping cart with last minute items and proceeded to the long checkout lines. I picked the shortest but it looked like, at least, a 20-minute wait. In front of me were two small children. The boy was about eight and a younger girl. The boy wore a ragged coat that looked two sizes too small and a pair of tattered tennis shoes two sizes too big. His jeans came to the to the top of his socks. There in his hands were a few crumpled dollar bills.
The girl's clothing wasn't any better than her brothers. Her hair was a blonde mass of curls. On her red cheeks was a little scuff of dirt and her beautiful blue eyes were fixed on her older brother. She carried a beautiful pair of shiny, gold house slippers clutched to her chest. As the Christmas music played through the store the little girl swayed to the tune of "Jingle Bells" and half tried to sing along. Oh, the joy of youth.
When we finally reached the checkout register the little girl raised up on her tip-toes and very carefully placed the shoes on the counter. You would have thought they were real gold and fragile enough to break at the slightest jar. Those shoes were her treasure.
The clerk rang up the bill. "That will be $6.09," She said. The boy laid his crumpled dollars on the stand and began to search his pockets. He finally came up with $3.12.
"I guess we will have to put them back," he bravely said. "We'll come back some other time, maybe tomorrow."
The little girl moved her head back and forth, I could see the tears filling her eyes. A soft sob broke from the little girl lips. "But.. but.. Jesus would have loved these shoes," She cried.
"Well, we'll go home and I'll collect some more cans and we'll get some more money. Don't cry. Please, don't cry. We'll come back tomorrow," he said.
My heart was touched. I handed some money to the cashier. These children had waited in line for a long time and, after all, it was Christmas. Suddenly a pair of arms came around my legs and the little girl said in a small voice, "Thank you lady."
I had to know. I looked down into the little round face and I asked, "What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the shoes?"
The boy answered, "Our Mommy is real sick and she is going to heaven. Daddy said she might go before Christmas. She is going to be with Jesus."
The girl spoke, "My Sunday school teacher said the streets in Heaven are shiny gold, just like these shoes. Won't Mommy be beautiful walking on those streets in these shoes?"
My eyes flooded with tears, as I looked into her wide eyed, tear-streaked face. "Yes," I answered, "I am sure she will."
Silently I thanked God for using these children to remind me of the true spirit of giving.
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