“And he sat down, and called the twelve, and saith unto them, If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all.” Mark 9:35
“I want you to go to church with me," Mimmie said. I knew that was how she would answer the question. Still, I was quiet momentarily as I tried to think of a way out. Mimmie was my 88-year-old great-grandmother. I was a stupid kid who thought I knew everything.
Not many people get to know their great-grandmother. I was fortunate to know mine. My biological mother was fourteen when she gave birth to me. She was just a kid herself and had no business being a mother, so my grandparents adopted me. Mimmie was my grandmother's mother. She helped to raise me.
Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in her lap as she read the Bible. She loved old-time Gospel hymns. I was rocked to sleep as a child as she sang The Old Rugged Cross. I remember sitting in the pew next to her at church each Sunday morning. Mimmie was a person of strong faith. She lived the Golden Rule.
When I was eighteen, I joined the Army. I soon thought that Mimmie way of living was old-fashioned. I wanted no part of her old ways, and I especially did not want to attend church.
After a few years, I was assigned to come back to my hometown in Southeast Oklahoma to serve as a recruiter. I visited Mimmie and asked her, "What do you want this year for your birthday?" As the question left my mouth, I knew how she would answer. She said, "I want you to go to church with me. I know that I don't have many years left. It would mean so much to see all my grandchildren in church with me again." Seeing no way out, I said, “Okay. I’ll go.”
I called all my cousins, and we joined Mimmie at a little country church the following Sunday. She was so happy and proud. After church, we all returned to her house, and she cooked a wonderful meal for us.
After we finished eating, everyone said their goodbyes and left. I stayed behind with Mimmie. While she was cleaning up in the kitchen, I did what all church folk do on Sunday afternoon—I took a nap. If you don't take a nap on Sunday afternoon, you may not be saved… Anyway, I kicked off my shoes and put them under the coffee table. Then, I stretched out on the couch. I was asleep in a couple of minutes.
At that point in my life, I didn't have much money. I was in the Army trying to work my way through college. I did not own a pair of dress shoes to wear to church. The shoes that I wore that day were an old pair of Army low-quarter dress shoes. The shoes were issued to me during basic training. They were scratched, scuffed, and nicked up. I sat up and reached for my shoes when I woke from my nap. The shoes were right where I left them under the coffee table, but they were cleaned up and freshly polished. Mimmie came in while I was sleeping, and she polished my shoes.
Not too long after that, she died. At her funeral, I looked in the casket at her face. For some reason, I didn't think about our years together. I didn't think about all the delicious meals she made for me. Do you know what I remembered? That is the dear, sweet woman who polished my shoes. Her act of kindness, polishing my shoes, was a simple gesture, but it left a lasting impression on me. It was a reflection of her selflessness and love, and it's a memory I cherish to this day.
The point is, as you read this, perhaps, in the back of your mind, you recall a precious memory of somebody who blessed you. Wouldn't you like to be that person? Wouldn't you want to be the kind of person that when you walk away from a crowd, they whisper, 'Boy, he's like a breath of fresh air. She's like a breath of fresh air.' I don't know about you, but I want to be like that. Mimmie's act of kindness, polishing my shoes, was a breath of fresh air in my life. It's a reminder of the impact we can have on others through simple acts of kindness.
Sometimes, the old ways are still the best.
