Earlier today, a little boy walked into the store alone and asked me quietly,
“Where do you have the cheapest shoes?”
His voice was polite but heavy.
I led him over to the clearance section and asked if they were for school.
He nodded and looked down.
That’s when I saw them—
The shoes he was wearing were completely falling apart.
Frayed, torn, coming apart at the seams.
It was obvious he’d already walked too many miles in them.
I asked gently,
“Did you wear those on your first day of school?”
He said yes.
Then he told me a little more of his story.
Softly.
Quietly.
Just enough to break my heart.
So I looked at him and said,
“Don’t worry. Pick any shoes you like.”
He looked confused.
“Why? I don’t have the money,” he said.
And I just smiled:
“That’s okay. I’ll buy them for you.”
He stared at me like he couldn’t believe it.
“Really?!”
“Really,” I said.
“Pick your favorite pair.”
He did.
And when he tried them on, you should’ve seen his face—
Like he was floating.
Before he left, I asked him for one promise:
“Get good grades. Be good in school.”
He nodded hard.
“I promise.”
As he walked out of Finish Line with his brand-new kicks, still smiling and shaking his head like it was all a dream, I felt something I’ll never forget:
Pure joy.
Not from spending money.
But from giving someone a lift when they needed it most.
That’s the best gift God has given me.
Not the shoes.
Not the job.
But the chance to help.
Have a good school year, little man.
Go get those good grades.
And never stop believing that people care.
1