My Daddy’s shoes
I remember (age 5) standing at my dad’s bedroom door on Sunday morning. He hummed a little tune while he buffed his shoes. He liked them super shiny. I was daddy’s little girl. He smiled at me and grabbed his coat. We walked hand in hand across the yard to church.
Mother insisted that I sit on the front row piano side. Probably so she could snap her fingers when I misbehaved during church.
Mother played the piano and Daddy played the organ. I tapped my fingers on the wooden pew and swung my feet to the beat.
Dad’s sermons always started with a humorous story. I turned around and looked back at the audience as they giggled and laughed. The snap of mother’s fingers quickly brought me to attention. I loved watching daddy preach. He smiled a lot. He talked about God and Jesus as if they were best friends. He used his hands and drew pictures in my mind. It wasn’t long until I wanted to be Jesus’ friend as well.
Sunday afternoons were quiet. Mother fussed over dinner while Dad read the paper. I remember playing on the floor and looking at my dad’s shoes. They rested neatly beside his chair. He tapped his stocking toe to the sweet melodies floating from the record player. Mom hummed along and her fried chicken popped to the beat.
My dad’s shoes were normal size but with all the spit and shine of Sunday’s best, they looked as if they were going somewhere special. I scooted near the shiny pair. I imagined they could take me anywhere. Slowly I lifted them up and scooted my tiny feet inside. I almost toppled over when I tried to stand. I heard dad snicker. When I looked back he was hiding behind the paper. I practiced walking until I was able to flop with ease.
Daddy’s strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me into the air. We danced around the room giggling and laughing. The momentum caused his shoes to drop off my feet. His eyes sparkled. “Someday when you have big shoes, God will take you on Amazing adventures.”
God certainly did that for my dad. His feet and his shiny shoes covered a lot of earthly ground. When he was a youthful 22 he received his pilots license. His shiny shoes took him high into the air. Later he would walk on the sandy earth of Mexico, preaching about Jesus and flying with “Air Mail from God.” He dropped thousands of Gospels of John into remote areas and tiny villages.
Dad’s feet took him to over 15 countries on a worldwide missionary trip. He walked through jungles, preached in war zones and even took the message of Jesus to Voodoo territory. He stood by land mines in Korea and walked past Check point Charlie in Germany. He said he was never afraid because God prepared the way before him.
He rode trains, planes, busses, rickshaw’s, motorcyles, trucks, wagons and boats. He saddled camels, horses, donkey’s and elephants. He ate strange foods and talked with even stranger people. He became best friends with the highest ranking monk in Burma. He never met a stranger and loved talking with everyone about their experiences and the God that loved them.
Dad walked beside The Sea of Galilee and down the stoney roads of Jerusalem. He stood beside the birth place of Jesus and marveled at the Upper Room.
After three months he returned home and went on to build churches, own a graphics business, earn a doctorate, become a published author, build a radio and television ministry and become my mentor and friend.
I took his shiny shoes out of the closet yesterday and put them on my feet. These shoes didn’t just take my daddy places, their shine brought light into my life as well.
Dad taught me that we are only limited by ignorance. He said, “We all basically start out the same. It’s only those who refuse to learn that are truly crippled in life.” Learning for him was not just facts. I’ve heard him say….“You can know all the facts and still be stupid. It’s how you apply those facts to life and relationships that make the difference.”
Dad taught me not to be afraid to try. “If you see something that needs to be done, do it! You can learn to do anything you want if you have a book. Don’t be a spectator in life. Get out there and make it happen.”
Dad taught me to be involved. “If you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.”
Dad taught me to be helpful. “Don’t expect God to solve your problems or anyone else’s until you’ve exhausted all your resources. It’s a team effort Debbie.”
Dad taught me to be adventurous. “Don’t be dangerous, but always push to be better than you are and to test your limits.”
Dad taught me to be creative. I ask him to teach me how to draw. For several days he gave me lessons after school. I still remember him giving me a big hug and telling me that he thought it was time that I looked at other gifts God had given me. “When you can’t draw a straight line with a ruler, being an artist may not be your God given gift.”
Yet, I took his creative spirit to heart and branched into other areas. I remember bounding into his office dressed liked a nutty 
reporter. I wore Dad’s red tie hung crooked on his white shirt buttoned wrong. A silly hat and bold black glasses made me look a little unhinged. I wore his shoes and flopped across the floor to stand beside him. He laughed, “What is this?” I hugged his neck. “I think the youth group will listen to my report if they have something fun to look at.” As I rounded the doorway to leave he yelled, “Can I borrow that outfit for my Sunday Morning Sermon?”
Even when Daddy’s feet took him to a nursing home, he continued to impact others. Nurses and aids told me that he was the sweetest man and they loved taking care of him. One nurse let tears run down her face while she shared her story. “My dad never told me he loved me. It’s been a difficult burden. This week, while I was trying to feed your dad, he reached over and touched my cheek. Then he softly said, “I love you.” For the first time in my life a Dad said he loved me.” She stared out the window. “I think I’ll go to church on Sunday.”
This week, my daddy’s feet touched Heaven’s streets of Gold. He greeted his loved ones with an excitement of long awaited anticipation. He strolled past the pearly gates, heard the beautiful music and was in awe of the blooming gardens and sweet smells.
He walked passed Saint John and waved in delight. He saw Peter talking with Paul and knew he would have time with them as well. He hugged all those wonderful congregants that worshiped in his churches and had made their home in Heaven.
As he rounded down an avenue he saw a figure in front of him. I’m sure he smiled, his eyes must have twinkled and his feet took off running. He wrapped his arms around his best friend. He buried his face in his chest and heard him say….”Hi Ken. Welcome Home. Well done, my good and faithful servant. Enter now into the joys of the Lord.”
My dad may have had small feet for a man, but his shoes are awfully hard to fill. Yet, today I want to wear my daddy’s shoes. I want to go on adventures and accomplish all that God wants me to do. I don’t want to be afraid and I do want to be an example to those around me.
Someday when I go home to Heaven, I know that daddy will meet me at the gate. He’ll take me down the avenue to meet Jesus and then I’m sure he’ll turn and say, “Where have you been? Get your shoes. We are going on an adventure!”