My stolen sneakers

The story of the stolen sneakers.  

It rained this morning but I was determined to go up the mountain to Bwalaylow to visit Edna (highly recommend a Facebook page search for Edna). I haven’t seen her since I finished the carport for her tricycle. I knew the way would be muddy and the short cut taken was really intense! Whoo! Think that’s the best hike I have found here!  Lots of fun photos posted today… that’s where they came from.  Any who, back to the story… 

Someone stole my sneakers. I have an old pair of sneakers that I use for hiking and after looking and looking I finally asked out loud. “Any one see my sneakers?”

“I saw (bleeeep) wearing them. I was thinking to myself, Teneil has always had these shoes.  She loves her old shoes, why she give to this guy? But you are always giving so I just keep walking.”

Couldn’t argue the statement. I’ve had these worn out ol shoes for like 10 years… it felt personal. I was really mad because this particular person comes frequently asking for help and I usually find some way to assist but after farming in the mud my sneakers were drying outside when he came to visit and I was not available. My blood was boiling. I was red hot. I put on my sandals determined to still make the trek up up up the mountain. My insides were mad. How could I let this go? I started my hike knowing there was some wisdom in this. Knowing there was a blessing I wasn’t seeing. ‘God help me with this one.’ I prayed in my heart. 

After about 20 min of the “big climb” and I wasn’t thinking about it any more, just trying to breath. Hauling a little extra junk in my trunk these days. I blame an ugly breakup right at Valentine’s day and a few timely donation boxes full of cookies and yes I shared a little bit but not enough because I was huffin like an asthmatic. 

Back to the story.

On the way down, which I should mention Edna is great and looking forward to another visit to bring her a new bicycle chain, and some other stuff Friday (stay tuned)… On the way back down, I started to really feel the blisters of hiking in my sandals. I instantly was ticked again. Dang it (bleeeep), how could you do this to me. Every week you come begging for money and I have always taken on the burden, giving food, buying what your selling, taking you to the clinic. All the time!  It’s exhausting! 

And then I felt it. Like a wave of peace. 

I was free. This person had taken so much from me and I, being me, have always found a way to help. But an offence like stealing shoes in Malawi ain’t okay, even busted up old sneakers. If I had asked, what would it take for me to make you stop abusing my help? My oldest pair of shoes was a good bargain. AND I realised how attached I was to them. Shoes!? Broken shoes, actually sentimental?! Over broken sneakers that offer no support?! I’m emotionally attached to my sneakers? That might make a cute bumper sticker but in reality being attached emotionally to something that you put on your foot isn’t healthy. That’s not grounded. I know I’m gonna get letters now telling me that you have the same sneakers from 20 years ago and you love them and that’s okay…. hard pill to swallow I know, losing a person is worth being emotional, losing old nasty sneakers is not. Trust me I understand it’s about the miles you put into em, I get it, I’m in recovery form the same addiction. No judgment. But if you want it, I give you the opportunity to also free yourself from your antique shoe collection. Be free! Get rid of em! Honestly, I feel so much better after working through my old sneaker issues. 

So, now I get to go shoe shopping in Muzuzu. I have big ol feet so it’s tricky here in Malawi, but I have confidence that God is lining it up now, because I learned my lesson.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s