A single mother sat with her little son and read Bible stories to him. They made a habit, although he was only four years old, of daily prayer and Bible reading. It was a precious time for both.
The child, Dean, was a full-of-life little boy with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He loved to pray and learn about God. He had a calendar where his mom drew a little picture of whatever good deed he did that day. His calendar was packed with them. She wanted him to learn how to put his faith into practice and that’s just what he was doing.
For months, he and his mother had been putting together a missionary cupboard. It was a ramshackle bookcase that wasn’t quite even. They painted it bright orange (that was his favorite color). A map of the world was tacked up over it.
He reverently placed knick-knacks from various countries on the shelves. Dean was allowed to put colored stick-pins on the map of the countries where the curios originated. He loved the one in
That boy was so poor; he didn’t even have a home. Dean prayed often for that child who lived far across the ocean.
He loved to stand in front of the bookcase and dream. Dean didn’t know he was also poor, because he had almost everything he wanted—a warm home, his mom and the fun they had together. He loved God and liked going to Sunday school and church--well, more the Sunday school part, because he was an active little guy.
One Sunday, he was very excited about going to church that night. When he was in Sunday school, the teacher told him a missionary would be coming to the evening service.
When it was time to go, he scurried back to his room and came out with a rumpled brown bag. His mom thought he was bringing a quiet toy, so she didn’t check to see what was in it.
They left a little early and were some of the first people there. The church was nearly empty when they arrived, so they sat near the front where they could see and hear well. It was hard for Dean to sit still during the service, but he tried extra hard to be good. He wanted to see the missionary that loved children.
Above his forehead, his cowlick stood at attention and his blue eyes and pink, pudgy cheeks glowed with excitement. Finally, the worship music was done and the missionary was introduced. Dean sat up and quit fidgeting. He leaned forward to hear every word. He’d never seen a real missionary before.
The man talked about people in faraway lands who didn’t know Jesus. He spoke about Jesus and he talked about the children. He asked the congregation to pray for those people.
At that point, Dean slipped out of the pew and started up the aisle with his little rumpled bag. His mom didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to make a scene.
“Where are you going?” she whispered. Dean turned and looked at her and said aloud: “I want a poor child to have some shoes, Mommy.”
The missionary watched him and started down the aisle to meet him. Dean pulled some scuffed shoes from the bag and held them out to the man.
“Why, what’s this?” he asked Dean as he took the shoes.
“These are for the poor children,” Dean replied. “I want them to have shoes.”
The man stood there, holding them. He was deeply touched and his face softened as he looked at this little fellow offering up his very best.
He gave Dean a hug and turned him around to face the congregation. “This is what it’s all about,” he said. “This young boy will be a missionary one day.”
Dean didn’t know he was poor. He just knew he had more than some of the children he prayed for. The little guy was reaching out to those in need. The shoes had been given to him second-hand because he needed them. He loved those shoes. Yet, he chose to give them to someone more in need than he was. Dean was living his prayer by helping provide for someone who had nothing.
Dean’s mom was so proud of him, she thought she’d burst. She continues to treasure that moment and will for the rest of her life. I know she will, because, I am that mother. My son Dean was the compassionate little fellow with the shoes.
