Lost Shoes

Sarah Hemingway

The girls came running back to the dusty camper after a long frolic at the swings and slides. We were on our way from North Carolina to Colorado and had driven through the night to reach this first stop in Kansas. The campground seemed just the place to take a break from our long drive, and after an hour or so at the pool, Tom returned to our campsite for a well-earned nap. The children and I had stayed away at the playground, giving him the peace and quiet he needed. Returning to the camper with our nodding baby, I’d made the girls promise to come along in just a few minutes.

Relishing the freedom of being out of the van, Laura, 8, and Beki, 5, skipped and giggled as they made their way over to the rest of us. "Girls," I noticed, "where are your shoes?"

"Uh-oh, Mom, we left them by the pool. We’ll be right back."

I prided myself on being the bargain queen of the family, and that summer I was particularly proud of having found the perfect shoe sale just before vacation. Each child was outfitted with new sneakers and sandals from the mall’s recent sale.

"Hmm," I thought. The girls are taking longer than they should. Soon enough I saw them slowly meandering down the path—without their shoes.

"Mom," they said, "we looked all over, and they were gone. We couldn’t find them anywhere."

Baby Matt was now asleep in his porta-crib, so I joined the girls, and we searched the poolside area thoroughly. Sure enough, the shoes were nowhere to be found. "Well, maybe someone turned them in," I offered. "We’ll check at the office."

The folks at the campground office were helpful, but no one had turned in any sneakers. They did take down a description, just in case.

Determined not to dampen our high spirits, I dug into the suitcase and produced the alternate shoes I’d bought. Our vacationing daughters donned their new sandals and were off again for more adventures.

Afternoon faded into evening, and after a dinner by the campfire, stories, and a few songs, these youngsters had recharged their batteries and wanted one more run at the nearby playground before bedtime. Tom and I talked quietly under the stars while Matt nestled into dreamland.

Soon it was time for the girls to turn in, so Dad whistled his particular kind of whistle, and the youngsters came running. "Time for bed," we said as we took out pajamas for our tired little monkeys. Preparing them for bed, we realized that their sandals hadn’t made it back to the van with them. This time parents weren’t quite so patient, and we sent them back with strict orders to get their shoes, "pronto!"

Unfortunately, it was a repeat of the earlier experience. No shoes were to be found anywhere, even after Tom and I combed the area. And the office still hadn’t received any "lost" shoes, but they were getting reports of other things missing. To our dismay, apparently there was a thief in the campground, and our children’s shoes (the bargain queen’s treasures) were never found! We even checked the office the next morning, but to no avail. Loading our barefoot daughters in the van, we continued our journey westward.

A bit more sober than when we’d arrived, we headed across the Kansas interstate and began to settle into the routine of kids’ tapes, crayons, and coloring books. We counted cows, cars, signs, or whatever else would amuse us along the way. Morning became lunchtime, and before we knew it, we were ready to stop for a bite to eat. Climbing out of the van, we approached the restaurant only to find a sign on the door, "No shoes, no service." Well, it was only noon. There were bound to be drive-through places or other restaurants nearby. An hour down the road and four stops later, we continued to find the same sign, "No shoes, no service." At this point, everyone’s nerves were frazzled. Mom and Dad kept thinking, "If only the girls hadn’t been so careless." Kids were thinking, "We’re HUNGRY!" And we all were beginning to think, "This is ridiculous."

At that point, Tom told the rest of us to go inside while he and Laura stayed behind. We’d found a scruffy pair of shoes for Beki to wear, but there was nothing we could find to fit Laura.

"Tom," I argued, "we’re all in this together."He replied, "I have a plan, just go on in."

Beki and I scooted into the welcome booth while we settled Matt into a highchair. Just as we began to scan the menus and sip our iced water, I noticed Beki looking up, her eyes as big as saucers. I turned around to see Tom and Laura walking in, stoic as could be. As my eyes dropped downward, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Little Laura was shuffling along in her Dad’s size 10 running shoes, while Tom, bless his heart, had completed his shorts and shirt attire with a very polished pair of Sunday tie-up shoes—no socks! It was hilarious, and we all broke into uncontrollable laughter, totally demolishing the tension of the whole episode. Ah, family memories!

As I thought of this story, it reminded me of the Easter season we’re celebrating. You see, we’re much in the same situation that Laura was in. We’ve been given so much, and yet by our own carelessness or by the robbery of sin, we are left without what we need to gain entrance into the restaurant. God tells us that we just aren’t able to get into heaven by ourselves; we don’t have the proper attire: righteousness, a sinless life. It’s as if there’s a door in heaven that says, "No righteousness, no entrance."

So here we are, having blown it and not having the "shoes" we need to be allowed into heaven. That’s where our Lord comes into the picture. He sees our need and assesses the situation. He knows that of ourselves, we can’t manufacture the "shoes" we require, so what does he do? He humbles himself, takes off his heavenly shoes, and gives them to us. He says, "If you’ll be willing to walk in my shoes, even though they’re WAY too big for you, then you can walk through the doors of heaven and enjoy the feast I have prepared for you."

Giving us his shoes to walk in didn’t come cheaply for Jesus. His humiliation and suffering on this earth cost him his life—exactly the price of our being able to walk "in Him." As we ponder these eternal truths, let’s remember that while we’re shuffling along in our Lord’s shoes, He’s there beside us daily, loving, protecting, and making sure we reach our destination. This is the great and wonderful news of Easter. Hallelujah! Christ is risen indeed!

"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich" (2 Cor. 8:9).

Sarah Hemingway, a freelance writer, writes and speaks on the challenges of raising a happy Christian family.