A shoe story

While working as a missionary at Santiago Isabela, an unforgettable
shoe story experience happened to me.

Part of our job is to find people to teach and in order to do this
required travel, and most of the time walking from house to house.

One day, I decided to wear the preloved low heeled, comfortable,
leatherette brown sandals given by my sister. Because one of our teaching
appointments was cancelled, we decided to visit Ada, one of our golden contacts
who had been sick. Her house was located in the middle of a rice farm several
meters from the highway. We had to walk through rice paddies in order to reach
their house.

I was told by my companion to just go straight ahead and focus on my steps.
I was talking while walking, and somehow engrossed at the beauty of the scenery.
Inadvertently stepping on a protruding bamboo, I lost my balance halfway before
Ada’s house. The second thing I knew , my right foot already landed on the ricefield.
Good that my friend held me in the arm so I did not fall all the way. I struggled
to pull my sandals out of the sticky muddy riceland, but to no avail.
'What an unlucky day, I just said to myself'. As I tried pulling my sandals again,
a kind hearted farmer who saw us offered help by helping me get out of the mud.

With my foot and sandal covered with mud, we decided to move on. This time both
of us barefoot, towards our contact's house.

As I washed my sandal in the nearby irrigation canal , I discovered that its straps
were torn.
“Oh my, I will go home barefoot!” I exclaimed to my companion.
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you at my back,” she said jokingly.
And we both laughed .

As we reached our contact, I felt so awkward and embarrassed of my clumsiness.
Good that our contact was solicitous enough not to allow me to go home barefoot
or with just one shoe. I went home grateful that day on a borrowed shoes, half
inch bigger than my size.