The used shoe ministry

I met a little girl yesterday.  She is a sweet little girl who wore sandals in the sand volleyball pit.  While the kids were playing volleyball, she opted to sit out because she “had sand in her shoes”.  Knowing there had to be more to the story than that, I made my way over to sit next to her.  I noticed the sandal was broken.  The fabric that attaches to the sole of the shoe was torn.  I could see that she was embarrassed. 

There are moments in life that are meant to be handled discreetly and with sincere gentleness.  This child does not know me.  Truth be told she probably could not tell you my name.  I asked her if I could help her get the sand out of her shoe.  Reluctantly she handed the shoe to me.  I pounded the heel of the shoe into the palm of my hand, over exaggerating the act of getting sand off a backless, side less shoe.  Then I announced her shoe was broken.  In this moment, I wanted this child to know that she was cared for.  I said to her “oh my word!  I broke your shoe!  I am SO sorry.”  Her little eyes looked up at me, perplexed and embarrassment crawled across her face.  I continued, “I am such a goof.  I cannot believe I did that!  You probably wish you had a new teacher, huh?”  Those big brown eyes continued to tell me that she thought I was completely out of my mind but she was searching for the reason(s) behind my behavior. 

I hopped off the bleacher and told her that I must replace her shoes, immediately.  I whispered to my co-teachers and jetted home.  We do not have a lot but we have enough.  My garage is filled with tossed aside clothes, shoes and baby dolls that my children have outgrown or replaced.  I am not a mother who uses the “there are children starving to death in Africa, you should feel bad for not eating your peas” speech.  I never want my children to feel shamed for their blessings, however, I reiterate that because of His blessings upon our lives we are able and called to help others.  I rummaged through a box full of outgrown shoes and flip-flops, tossed them in a bag and hustled back to church.

I found my new friend, gracefully walking as to not disturb the torn shoe.  I pulled her into a room and plopped down on the floor.  I told her that I felt terrible for breaking her shoe and the only way I could get a good night’s sleep was if I replaced the shoes. I gave her two pair of tennis shoes, a pair of flip-flops and a pair of church shoes.  The million-watt smile that spread across her face brought me to tears. 

I tell you this not to be boastful but rather enlighten you that sometimes untruths are a way of ministry.  The truth of the matter is that I did not break her shoe.  It was broken long before I met her.  What I want her to know is that somewhere, some crazy teacher met a basic need and cares for her.  I am allowing myself to be her excuse and that is OK.  All the wee people who are in my life regularly know that no matter what I will be the fall guy.  Material things should not be coveted but occasionally, especially in a setting of many children, material possessions can be a make it or break it deal.  Don’t believe me?  Ask a child who has a broken shoe how she feels when she is surrounded by children who do not.

I do not make it a habit to perpetuate lies but occasionally I tell untruths to buy some time to round up a pair of used shoes.

The Worst Mom Ever, 9 years in a row.

Today we picked up the #tweenager 7^th grade schedule.  In our school, there are two teams.  Neither of the teams are better or worse than the other; I assume they divide them up so the teachers are not overwhelmed by the amount of kids.  My daughter spent the whole summer dreaming about team A.  She just knew that team A was where it is at.  She looked forward to chatting it up with her friends in Pre-Algebra, hanging out in the hall during passing period and eating lunch at the 7^th grade table.  When we reached the end of the “prove your residence, shot record, and buy the agenda” line we picked up the coveted schedule.  When she read the team name at the top her eyes immediately filled with tears.  Most of her friends had already gotten their schedules and of those that had picked them up, they already knew they were on the other team.  Que the meltdown.  

I have said since they were tiny that “I am not raising children who like me, rather I am raising adults others will want to be around.”  The jury is still out as to whether that statement will ring true but I do have a few reasons why I will not fix this situation for her.  Sure, I have the ability to call the school and give them a piece of my mind, name drop, and word vomit all the reasons she needs to be on Team A but I am choosing not to.  Why?  Well, here in the real world it is not that easy at all.  (It is ok if you sing that last sentence and pretend you are Alan Jackson.) 

I remember when they were babies and they were toddling around and would fall.  Most of the time if I under reacted and paid no attention to the scene they would pop right back up and be on their way.  I find that if I do not come running every time they fall down eventually they learn how to walk.  Imagine that!  There was no way I could pad every corner and prevent every fall; eventually they had to learn to do things for themselves.  Choosing to let her experience this stumble does not make me a mean mom.  In fact I kind of think it makes me a decent mom who her future employer, college professor and husband my thank me for.  She must build skills to cope with life because it only gets harder. (Trust me child, I know you are rolling your eyes right about now because you know everything.)

I love that my daughters have great friends.  I love that my home is ground zero for loud, hungry, sweaty girls.  I enjoy when my home is filled with giggles and girls.  However, what I really love is the character I see within these wee people.  I do see some great athletes in the mix, some of them are super smart but all of them have a great set of core values.  THAT’S what I am interested in.  I am empathetic that my child will not have lunch with all of her friends.  I am a little sad that she will be upset the first several weeks of school but I know by allowing her to experience short-term disappointment will teach her a long-term lesson. 

And that my friends is what makes me the worst mom ever.