Iron Sharpens Iron, Men Strengthen Men

Every now and then I run across a poem/ story that really speaks to me. Some of them are kind of old-fashioned, like this one, but others are just good stories told well.  This one is an instant classic to me because it reeks of the cliché:

“Don’t judge a book by its cover”

All of us, at one time or another, have met someone and came to a conclusion simply based upon the way someone looked. Don’t deny it…because we ALL do this. The question is, when we find out we were wrong in our judgement, what do we do then?  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did…

 

I showered and shaved and I adjusted my tie.

I got there and sat in a pew just in time.

Bowing my head in prayer as I closed my eyes.

I saw the shoe of the man next to me touching my own and I sighed.

With plenty of room on either side I thought, ‘Why must our soles touch?’

It bothered me, his shoe touching mine. But it sure didn’t bother him much.

A prayer began: ‘Our Father’ I thought, this man with the shoes, has no pride.

They’re dusty, worn, and scratched. Even worse, there are holes on the side!

‘Thank You for blessings,’ the prayer went on. The shoe man said a quiet ‘Amen.’

I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts were on his shoes again.

Aren’t we supposed to look our best when walking through that door?

‘Well, this certainly isn’t it,’ I thought, glancing toward the floor.

Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began.

The shoe man was certainly loud-sounding proud as he sang.

His voice lifted the rafters his hands were raised high.

The Lord could surely hear the shoe man’s voice from the sky.

It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep.

I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.

I saw what was pulled out what the shoe man put in.

Then I heard a soft ‘clink’. As when silver hits tin.

The sermon really bored me to tears, and that’s no lie.

It was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes.

At the end of the service as is the custom here.

We must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer.

But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man.

So after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.

He was old and his skin was dark and his hair was truly a mess.

But I thanked him for coming and for being our guest.

He said, ‘my names Charlie I’m glad to meet you, my friend.’

There were tears in his eyes but he had a large wide grin.

‘Let me explain,’ he said, still wiping those tears from his eyes.

‘I’ve been coming here for months and you’re the first to say ‘Hi.”

‘I know that my appearance is not like all the rest. ‘But I really do try to always look my best.’ ‘I always polish and clean my shoes before my very long walk’.

‘But by the time I get here, they’re dirty and dusty and just like chalk.’

My heart filled with pain and I swallowed my tears as he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near. He said, ‘When I get here I know I must look a sight.’ ‘But I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite.’

I was silent for a moment knowing whatever was said, would pale in comparison. So I spoke from my heart and not my head.

‘Oh, you’ve touched me,’ I said ‘and taught me in part; ‘that the best of any man is what is found in his heart.’ The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know.

Like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul. 

 

Until next time guys…