Somehow, they've survived. A smudged, toe-scuffed pair of what were once shiny-white baby shoes, with strings still laced. Mother can't remember for sure, but judging by how the toes are scraped, it's fairly obvious I learned to crawl in them, and possibly they even felt the weight of my very first steps. That alone makes them special. The world changes dramatically when we first pull ourselves up from the floor, reach our arms out for balance like a tightrope walker, and amble to Mom's arms. The gleeful response from whoever's in the room, encourages us to turn around and walk the same tightrope in the other direction to a smiling Dad. From there, we're just a hop, skip and a jump from getting on the school bus. I'm sure you parents will agree, as you recall your child's early years, that life just seemed to pick up breathtaking speed once they learned to walk.
As I look at these reminders of my early toddler days, I linger momentarily and wonder just how many pairs of shoes I have worn in my life. I wonder too if somewhere, some kindred soul of mine has actually saved every pair they've ever owned. I would guess I've worn somewhere between 60-70 pairs of shoes in my lifetime, and that sounds like a large number until I consider that Nancy has that many that she's purchased in the last 6-7 years, hanging in shoe bags in her closet.
Actually, I wish these weren't the only shoes from my past that I still possessed.
I'd like to see the shoes I wore during the summers of 1956 and 1957. Those were the summers when my Dad took my brother, Steve, and I to Jet Stadium to see the Columbus Jets play baseball. They were a farm team for the Pittsburgh Pirates in those days. As much as we looked forward to the game itself and eating hot dogs, popcorn and peanuts, it was something that we did before the game that became especially memorable for me. In one of those spontaneous, unplanned moments, we had decided before one of the first games we attended that we should have a race to see who could get from the car to the stadium first. We were 8 and 10 years old, Dad was 33. As soon as we exited the 2-door red and white '56 Chevy, our eyes would meet and we'd all take off at once. We would laugh and get out of breath. So much fun.
So simple. Yet so the way fathers, and sons and daughters should be.
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| Redbird Stadium, about 1950, renamed Jets Stadium in 1955. |
I never won the race, but I'd still like to have those shoes that I wore, running up the side streets and crossing the main street to the Ball Park. I'd put them in a treasure chest along with this writing, so my grandchildren and great-grandchildren could look at them and purpose to have simple, yet powerful experiences like that with their children.
When I was a senior in high school, 8 years later in 1964, I most likely would have won that race to Jets Stadium, although I don't think my Dad would have conceded a thing. But I was on the Brookhaven High School track team. My track career wasn't spectacular, but I was competitive in the 880 yard race and the Mile run.
On April 24, 1964, Brookhaven hosted the first annual Bearcat Relays. It was the first time we had run in a night meet, under the lights. A big deal. I was especially pumped, because my Dad was going to be able to be there. Because of his job, he couldn't make it to the meets with the normal earlier start times. I had been finishing 2nd or 3rd in the 880 yd. run in most races, but that night I was determined to do better. I went out strong and led after the first lap. I can still see the look on Coach Mark Whitaker's face as I ran by him and finished the first of 2 laps. He frowned disbelievingly at his stopwatch, knowing full well that my first lap time was too fast. I don't remember if I finished last, but if not, I was close to it. I had traded a likely 2nd or 3rd place in the race for 1st lap glory. But I'd still love to have those track shoes in front of me right now. They would go in the treasure chest too. Maybe, just maybe, one of my great-grandsons or great-granddaughters will run in a meet someday, thinking of my experience, and win down the stretch, coming from behind. And after you do, save those shoes, Son...or Sweetheart. You might want to look at them some day.
There have been so many special moments in my life with those I love, that if I were to attempt to memorialize each moment or event with a pair of shoes, I would need one very large room to display them all. And I do not have enough days yet to live to write about each one. But I trust that my family knows how much I love them and all who will descend from them, as I take the time to write and pass along passions for them that God has placed on my heart.
Finally, after already mentioning three pairs of shoes that give just a snapshot of the many blessings that have come my way, I would like to include one other pair that I wish I had saved.
On June 3, 1968, I graduated from Milligan College with a Bachelor of Arts Degree. Unfortunately, I don't think I fully appreciated then all of the sacrifices my Mom and Dad had made to give me that opportunity. Only later, when I was called on to make similar sacrifices did it really hit me. That June 3rd had to be a proud day for them. They had made it possible for me to do something neither of them had done. Although I was ready to leap into the future, I'm sure they couldn't help but flash back in their minds to the days when I first began to scuff those little shoes and crawl, then walk, as I set their dreams in motion.
Maybe you'll find it strange to view your life through a lens made of shoes. But then again, maybe in doing so you'll see some things you didn't see before.
Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ------Ephesians 6:14-15
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation.-------Isaiah 52:7
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