The Free Site | vBuddy - business networking | Cheap Web Hosting - starting at $5

My alarm went off, it
was Sunday again; I was
tired, it was my one day
to sleep in.

But the guilt I'd have
felt the rest of the day
would have been too much,
so I'd go; I'd pray.

I showered and shaved,
adjusted suit and tie,
got there and swung
into a pew just in time.

Bowing my head in humble
prayer before I closed
my eyes, I saw that the
shoe of the man next to
me was touching my own
and I sighed.

With plenty of room on
either side, I thought,
"Why do our soles have to
touch?" It bothered me so;
he was glued to my shoe,
but it didn't seem to
bother him much.

Then the prayer began;
"Heavenly Father" someone
said, but I thought,
"Does this man with the
shoes have no pride?"

They were dusty, worn,
scratched end to end.
What's worse, there were
holes on the side!

"Thank You for blessings"
the prayer went on. The
shoe man said a quiet
"Amen" I tried to focus on
the prayer, but my thoughts
were on his shoes again.

Aren't we supposed to
look our best when walking
through that door? "Well,
this certainly isn't it" I
thought, glancing toward
the floor.

Then the prayer ended
and songs of praise began.
The shoe man was loud,
sounding proud as he sang.

He lifted the rafters; his
hands raised high; the Lord
surely heard his voice from
the sky.

Then the offering was
passed; what I threw in was
steep. The shoe man reached
into his pockets, so deep.

And I tried to see what he
pulled out to put in, then I
heard a soft "clink," as
when silver hits tin.

The sermon bored me to tears.
It was the same for the shoe
man, for tears fell from his
eyes. At the end of the
service, as is custom here,
we must greet the visitors
and show them good cheer.

But I was moved inside to
want to meet this man, so
after the closing, I shook
his hand.

He was old, his
skin dark, his hair a mess.
I thanked him for coming,
for being our guest.

He said, "My name is
Charlie, glad to meet you,
my friend," and there were
tears in his eyes, but he
had a wide grin.

"Let me explain," he said,
wiping his eyes. "I've been
coming for months, and
you're the first to say "Hi."

"I know I don't look like
all the rest, but I always
try to look my best.

I polish my shoes before my
long walk, but by the time
I get here they're as dirty
as chalk."

My heart fell to my knees,
but I held back my tears.
He continued, "And I must
apologize for sitting
so near.

But I know when I get here,
I must look a sight, and I
thought, if I touched you,
our souls might unite."

I was silent for a moment
knowing anything I said
would pale in comparison,
so I spoke from my heart
not my head.

"Oh, you've touched me,"
I said, "And taught me,
in part, that the best
of a man is what's in
his heart."

The rest, I thought,
this man will never know.
How thankful I am that he
touched my soul!