{"id":29230,"date":"2023-09-01T20:06:15","date_gmt":"2023-09-01T20:06:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/creativeoutreach.com\/?p=29230"},"modified":"2024-01-02T20:22:48","modified_gmt":"2024-01-02T20:22:48","slug":"the-shoe-man","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/creativeoutreach.com\/the-shoe-man\/","title":{"rendered":"The Shoe Man"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Shared by Clarence Dalrymple<\/h2>

Guest Post<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div>

My alarm went off<\/p>\n

It was Sunday again.<\/span><\/p>\n


<\/span><\/p>\n

I was sleepy and tired<\/p>\n

My one day to sleep in.<\/p>\n

But the guilt I would feel<\/p>\n

The rest of the day<\/p>\n

Would have been too much<\/p>\n

So I’d go, and I’d pray.<\/p>\n

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I showered and shaved.<\/p>\n

I adjusted my tie.<\/p>\n

I got there and sat in a pew just in time.<\/p>\n

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Bowing my head in prayer<\/p>\n

As I closed my eyes,<\/p>\n

I saw the shoe of the man next to me<\/p>\n

Touching my own. I sighed.<\/p>\n

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With plenty of room on either side, I thought,<\/p>\n

“Why must our soles touch?”<\/p>\n

It bothered me, his shoe touching mine<\/p>\n

But it didn’t bother him much.<\/p>\n

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A prayer began: “Our Father”…<\/p>\n

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I thought, “This man with the shoes has no pride.<\/p>\n

They’re dusty, worn, and scratched<\/p>\n

Even worse, there are holes on the side!”<\/p>\n

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“Thank You for blessings,” the prayer went on.<\/p>\n

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The shoe man said a quiet “Amen.”<\/p>\n

I tried to focus on the prayer<\/p>\n

But my thoughts were on his shoes again.<\/p>\n

Aren’t we supposed to look our best<\/p>\n

When walking through that door?<\/p>\n

“Well, this certainly isn’t it,” I thought, glancing toward the floor.<\/p>\n

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Then prayer ended, and the songs of praise began.<\/p>\n

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The shoe man was certainly loud, sounding proud as he sang.<\/p>\n

His voice lifted the rafters.<\/p>\n

His hands were raised high.<\/p>\n

The Lord could surely hear the shoe man’s voice from the sky.<\/p>\n

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It was time for the offering, and what I threw in was steep.<\/p>\n

I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.<\/p>\n

I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in.<\/p>\n

Then I heard a soft “clink” as when silver hits tin.<\/p>\n

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The sermon really bored me to tears, and that’s no lie.<\/p>\n

It was the same for the shoe man<\/p>\n

For tears fell from his eyes.<\/p>\n

At the end of the service<\/p>\n

As is the custom here<\/p>\n

We must greet new visitors<\/p>\n

And show them all good cheer.<\/p>\n

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But I felt moved somehow<\/p>\n

And wanted to meet the shoe man<\/p>\n

So, after the closing prayer<\/p>\n

I reached over and shook his hand.<\/p>\n

He was old, and his skin was dark<\/p>\n

And his hair was truly a mess<\/p>\n

But I thanked him for coming<\/p>\n

For being our guest.<\/p>\n

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He said, “My name’s Charlie<\/p>\n

I’m glad to meet you, my friend.”<\/p>\n

There were tears in his eyes<\/p>\n

But he had a large, wide grin<\/p>\n

“Let me explain,” he said<\/p>\n

Wiping tears from his eyes.”<\/p>\n

I’ve been coming here for months<\/p>\n

And you’re the first to say ‘Hi.'”<\/p>\n

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“I know that my appearance<\/p>\n

Is not like all the rest<\/p>\n

“But I really do try<\/p>\n

To always look my best.”<\/p>\n

I always clean and polish my shoes<\/p>\n

Before my very long walk.<\/p>\n

“But by the time I get here<\/p>\n

They’re dirty and dusty, like chalk.”<\/p>\n

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My heart filled with pain<\/p>\n

and I swallowed to hide my tears<\/p>\n

As he continued to apologize<\/p>\n

For daring to sit so near.<\/p>\n

He said, “When I get here<\/p>\n

I know I must look a sight.<\/p>\n

“But I thought if I could touch you<\/p>\n

Then maybe our souls might unite.”<\/p>\n

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I was silent for a moment<\/p>\n

Knowing whatever was said<\/p>\n

Would pale in comparison<\/p>\n

I spoke from my heart, not my head.<\/p>\n

“Oh, you’ve touched me,” I said,<\/p>\n

“And taught me, in part;<\/p>\n

That the best of any man<\/p>\n

Is what is found in his heart.”<\/p>\n

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The rest, I thought,<\/p>\n

This shoe man will never know.<\/p>\n

Like just how thankful I really am<\/p>\n

That his dirty old shoe touched my soul.<\/span><\/p>\n


<\/span><\/p>\n

By: Leanne Freiberg<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div>

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