New Shoes for Lydia

Last week, after  searching several shops in the market, we found support shoes for our friend, Lydia, who has some disability in one of her legs, making it difficult for her to walk.  She had a pair of shoes and a brace, but they were so badly worn that they no longer gave her support. We made arrangements with Lydia to take her with her daughter accompanying her to see an orthopedic doctor at the hospital.

But when we arrived there on Friday, we were disappointed to hear that the doctor wasn't there and would not be in all day. The nurse instructed us to come back on Monday. I asked, "Will the doctor definitely be in on Monday? And will Lydia be fitted then?" The nurse answered affirmatively. Assured, we told the nurse that we would be back on Monday.

The anticipated day finally arrived, so, early this morning, George and I drove out to the village and  brought them to the hospital to get Lydia's shiny new shoes fitted with a brace that will help her walk. This was our second long journey with her to the hospital, so we were praying that she would be served today. 

 But, when the double doors to the orthopedic ward flung open, we saw the small room was crowded with about 25 mothers with their physically and mentally disabled children, all seated on the floor, waiting for the children to be taken in one by one for physical therapy.  There was hardly room for the door to close behind me.

The same nurse we saw on Friday met me at the door. After formal greetings, she said, "As you can see that there are many people here today for therapy, and we are very busy. Just sit down and wait." I answered, "No. I am just fine standing here. How soon will the doctor see Lydia?" She responded, "You can leave the shoes with us, then you can call to find out if the shoes are ready. When they are ready, you can come and pick them up."  That didn't seem logical to me, so I said, "How can you fit them if Lydia is not here to be fitted? She needs to be here so the doctor can fit the brace to her."  

One man  (I am guessing one of the therapists) who had been sitting on a motorcycle (don't ask me)  in the corner of the room joined the conversation. He got up, looked sternly at me, and said, "What can we do for you (pause) people?"  "I am not the one with the need," I responded. "Lydia is the one in need. She came here to get her brace fitted,"  

Stretching his hands toward Lydia, he said,  "Let me see the shoes." As he rolled the shoes over in his hands he said, "Many times I see shoes with soft soles, but these are fine shoes. They will do. We will call you when they are ready."  

That was my signal that the therapist intended to do something for Lydia today, and in my heart, I was thanking God for giving us favor. I then turned to Lydia's daughter and said, "You have our phone number, right? Ok. When the shoes are fitted, just call us, and we will come." The arrangement was made. I thanked the nurse and the therapist, and before any further obfuscation, I left. 

After about 3 1/2 hours, the anticipated call finally came, and we drove to the hospital. Just as we rolled to a stop in the parking lot, George saw her at a distance in the rearview mirror, walking toward us. I asked, "Does she have on the new shoes? Is she walking better?' George affirmed, "Yes! Those are the new shoes!"  Then suddenly, she was standing beside the truck. I have never seen her look so happy. Her eyes were sparkling, and her whole face was smiling as she said, "I am now beautiful!"  What an amazing thing to say!  "Yes, you are beautiful," I told her, "But you were beautiful before. I am so happy for you!" 

I realized how much this small kindness meant to her. Although she never said anything about being ashamed of the old, worn shoes and brace, this expression of God's love made her feel beautiful.  Now, how much is that worth? Priceless.