Slim and the Shoes

He did not wear a look of pride.

His hands shook as he held the paper up.

He read quickly and quietly. I might have caught two out of every four words.

When he finished reading, he bowed his head and made his way to the back of the room. He pulled headphones down over his ears.

I tried to flash him a smile and an encouraging thumbs up, but he avoided me, staring straight ahead at nothing.

Later, when I tried to talk to him, he lightly shook my hand and uttered a polite “thanks.” That was it.

I’d heard about him, but we’d never actually met. Everyone calls him Slim because he’s tall and lanky. If I had to guess, he’s in prison for some issue related to homelessness or mental health because he’s not big on personal cleanliness or appearance.

That night, HeartBound was co-hosting a talent show at the Atlanta Transitional Center. One of the residents, Wilson, had asked if we could sponsor the evening by providing gifts to the winners. We were happy to oblige.

Some men sang, others performed raps. One gentleman performed a whole Elvis monologue he’d written.

I tallied up the votes at the end. Slim didn’t receive any votes.

Later that week the staff emailed me – a gentleman with a size 17 shoe needed new shoes. He’d worn through the last pair that we’d purchased for him.

I realized that only one man at the Center could have a foot that big – Slim.

I ordered some work boots and took them to the Center two days later. I had the guard call for Slim over the intercom and he met me at the front. He looked at me wearily – the same look he gives everyone.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the box. “I believe these are for you. Size 17, right?”

The look on his face changed. A big smile grew across his face. He opened the box and gazed at the leather boots like a kid on Christmas Day.

He shook my hand and thanked me.

Before I turned to leave, I told him that I was proud of him for performing a poem at the talent show. I told him that I’d like to read more of his poetry. He muttered something about maybe one day. I’m not banking on it, but that’s okay.

His face told me all I ever needed to hear. Slim felt seen. He felt loved.

Thank you for supporting our mission and helping men like Slim. May we all continue to live out Matthew 25: “I needed clothes [or perhaps size 17 shoes] and you clothed me…I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

You have done it unto Jesus.