Saturday, January 5, 2013

Walk in My Shoes

This is a really touching true story from my friend Tony at That Is All   
 
I worked at a homeless mission in Baltimore, Md. for a couple of years. I worked in the Development Office and helped to raise money for the place and the homeless men that sought help there. I found that I had a special place in my heart for the big fat guys that would show up. I can call them big fat guys because I am a big fat guy myself. It is kind of like Paris Hilton being allowed to call her friends bitches. Anyway, finding clothes and such for big fat guys was much tougher than you might think. You see, most big fat guys wear their clothes until they wear out regardless of their position in life. That is because comfortable and acceptably stylish big fat guy clothing is hard to find and tends to be pricey as well. So, when big fat guys find clothes that they can wear, they don’t just wear them, they wear them out. The same thing goes for big fat guys shoes too. Especially shoes. Big fat guys put shoes to the test. Even the best shoes do not tend to last long when it comes to big fat guys. That being the case, seldom did we get donations to address the needs of my big fat brothers. I was always on the lookout though and would get a little crafty at times to get the big fat guys what they needed. I never could get them what they wanted it seemed, but I could usually find a way to get them what they needed. Until one afternoon. I helped one guy find what he wanted and get what he needed. So did I.


My office was usually dark. One reason for that is that I did a lot of work on computers and it was easier to see the screen when the lights were dim. The other reason is that I don’t like people as a rule, and if the lights were off, people were less likely to come into your office and bother you. (That is because most people are lazy- one of the reasons that I don’t like people. I will save that for another day though before this blog spins completely out of control.) I relied on the light coming in from my doorway to give me the light that I needed to look like I was working while I was usually on the internet keeping updated on profootballtalk.net. That is exactly what I was doing one afternoon when all of the sudden it got dark. I looked up at the door to my office and saw a giant pair of sweatpants, a giant sweat shirt, and half of a face blocking my light. That is not something that you see every day. Even in a homeless shelter. Before I could think of anything to say, the half of a face started talking to me. It said, “Are you Mr. Tony? I said, “Yes I am. You can call me Tony. What can I do for you?” He said, “Some people told me that I should come see you because you might be able to help me.” I asked him, “What do you need?” “Shoes.” he said.


I looked at his feet and the first thing I noticed was that they were the biggest feet I had ever seen in my life. The second thing I noticed was that this brother was wearing not one pair, but two pairs of shoes on his big fat guy feet. He had two pairs of different shoes that he had cut up, spliced into one giant shoe for each foot, and then taped back together with packing tape and duct tape to make one pair of shoes that would fit. Damn!


I asked him to come in and sit down. He ducked under the doorway, hobbled over to a chair and sat down. I was amazed that he was able to fit in the chair and that it held him. It did creaked a little bit though. He looked rough. Right off the street for a few days, withdraw from whatever he was hooked on had already started to kick in. He was hurting. He told me that his feet were hurting him so badly that he could hardly walk. They had blisters and sores all over them. His shoes made his back hurt too. He had been wearing them for months. He started to say something else but then he started to cry. And I watched. I watched this 6’10, 400 something pound shell of a man with two pairs of shoes on his one pair of feet cry. He told me a lot about himself. I told him a lot about me. The only difference between me and this man were some inches and some pounds and our names really. He learned that I had walked in his shoes, or at least one pair of his two pairs of shoes, before. I asked him what size his feet were. He told me size 17EEE, but 18’s would work too and he could squeeze into 16’s for sure. I told him that I had no idea how to get shoes that big. But I would try. I asked him if he prayed. He said prayer never seemed to work for him because he really didn’t know how to pray. He could never remember the prayers he was taught. I said, “Right now, you and I are going to pray for shoes, because unless Jonathan Ogden walks in here and puts them on my desk, I have no idea how to get them for you. And since you don’t know how to pray you can just repeat after me.” And that is what we did. “Dear God, I need your help. I think I need a pair of shoes. If I really do need a pair of shoes can you help me find them? Amen.”


“That’s it?” He asked. I said, “Yep, that’s it. Now let’s see what happens.” He got up, shook my hand and hobbled out with his two pairs of shoes on one pair of feet and a little shot of hope that he did not have when he walked in.

Now it was my turn. I sat down in my chair. My eyes started leaking a little. I felt his pain and despair. I had known that once. I had been at a point where I had only hoped for hope before. I had no idea what to do. I needed help. I try to practice what I preach, so I prayed. “God, It's Tony again. Listen, I am out on a limb here and I got nothing to stand on. I will be needing your help with this one if that is possible. Amen.” That is how I pray these days. I pray like that because it works for me. Then I started thinking, despite the fact that when I think trouble seems to ensue pretty quickly. I was thinking of a plea to the shoe companies or calling some big fat guy stores and seeing if they had any size 17 EEE’s gathering dust. I was halfway through another potential big fat guys shoe scheme when my phone started ringing. I couldn’t answer it because I had to find this big fat guy some shoes, but I hate a ringing phone. So I picked it up just to stop it from ringing. I am insane like that sometimes. Especially when I am thinking.
Read the rest of the story at That Is All

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