Shoes

I’ve never bought my kids a pair of shoes.  Ever.

Every pair they’ve worn has come from Papa, my father-in-law.  Shoes are a big deal to my father-in-law.

He grew up in a place called Buoy Courts, a government housing project in Texarkana, Texas.  He wore potato sack clothes, and apparently didn’t have shoes that fit.  He worked hard, studied hard, played football well enough to go to the University of Arkansas on a scholarship, then, after graduation, went to seminary and got a doctorate.  He put a couple or three siblings through school too. (One of them also became a pastor.) He eventually became kind of a big deal in his denomination, the president of something or other and now he pastors a church in the Houston area.  He has a big closet these days full of suits and pants and belts and shoes.

And I’ve never bought my kids a pair of shoes.  Ever.

Every pair they’ve worn, including the ones they got today, have come from Papa.

Shoes are a big deal to Papa.  And when we tell our kids why, we hope shoes become a big deal to them too.