Soul Polishing

“Prayer is not an old woman’s idle amusement. Properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action.” ~Mahatma Gandhi, Indian philosopher, advocate of nonviolent protest (1869-1948)

“Jimmy!” My grandmother called from the stoop outside the breezeway door. The anthill I was kicking had my full attention. “Jimmy!” she called again. Dirt, sand and ants exploded into the air as my brown lace-up shoes impacted the small mound with gusto.

“James the less?” When Grandma referred to me as “James the less,” I knew I was in trouble. After one last forceful kick, I turned and headed in the direction of Grandma’s voice. Around the side of the well house and across the gravel driveway I went. There stood Grandma on the breezeway stoop. She was a diminutive woman of German heritage. Wearing a housedress and apron, her hands were fisted on her hips.

“You know you’re supposed to come when you’re called,” she scolded. “Where were you?” “Out back,” I responded looking at my shoes. Her eyes followed my look down to my shoes. Disapprovingly, she stared at my dirty, scuffed shoes. “And what were you doing out back?” she asked. “Nothin’,” I replied slowly. “Nothin’ doesn’t do that to your shoes,” she observed pointing at the shoes.

“Come inside and get cleaned up.” Into the house we went, the screen door slamming behind us.

First, I was required to ‘wash up’ (wash my face and hands). Having passed inspection, Grandma led me to the back bedroom. She reached into the closet and pulled out a blonde wooden box with brass hinges and a brass closure device to hold the lid shut. Sliding a brass button to the left, a spring-loaded clasp popped up. Grandma opened the box.

Inside were a variety of brushes and small, flat, round, metal canisters in shades of black and brown. “You need to polish your shoes,” Grandma said simply. She carefully laid out newspaper to protect the carpet. “Don’t come out till you’re done.” With that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

For the next twenty to thirty minutes I did my best to fulfill my Grandmother’s wishes. There were a lot of the basics of shoe shining I didn’t understand. For instance, I didn’t realize the color of the canister was an indicator of the color of the polish or even that polish came in a variety of colors. I was particularly fascinated by something called ‘oxblood.’ Nor did I comprehend that the little brushes were for applying the polish and the big brushes for removing dirt and buffing.

Frustrated, I took tissues from my Grandmother’s night stand and applied the oxblood “stuff” to my dusty, scuffed shoes. Then, using one of the little brushes, because I had little shoes, I tried to bring up the shine. The results were less than desirable.
Rather than bearing a nice sheen, my shoes had been so dirty and scuffed they looked like I had smeared polish on a pair of suede shoes.

Frustrated, I pulled them on, laced them up, set the box back in the closet, and rolled up the newspaper. Taking one last look in the oval full-length mirror, I sighed deeply. Carrying the rolled newspapers with me I opened the bedroom door and headed out into the hall.

Grandma greeted me in the front room. “Let me see your shoes,” she said. I lay the papers aside. Grasping my dungarees at the knees I pulled them up, fully displaying my shoes. Grandma stared for a moment in disbelief, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I did the best I could,” I offered. “I know you did, Jimmy,” Grandma replied with what seemed like a chuckle. “Sit up to the table.”

A moment later she returned from the kitchen with a glass of goat’s milk and two of her famous vanilla cookies. “Next time I’ll show you how to shine your shoes,” she said placing the milk and cookies in front of me.

To this day I find it difficult to polish my shoes with any regularity. When I changed jobs a few weeks ago, I discovered I had some extra time in the morning. Like my grandparents, I have a shoe shining supply box (except now it’s Tupperware instead of wood). So, every evening, I place my shoes by the box and every morning I quickly dab a little polish on each shoe, then buff them out with a brush. Not only are my shoes always polished, I have noticed the shine is deepening, giving the shoes a richer appearance.

Most of us, at one time or another have used the “when in trouble, break glass” approach to our faith. In other words, our prayer and worship activities increase in proportion to our problems. But in fact, our faith is as much about daily maintenance as it is about intermittent salvage operations.

As a boy, I learned how difficult it was to try to restore my dirty, scuffed shoes in one step. Like putting lipstick on a pig, simply covering the dirt and deep scuff marks with some polish didn’t work very well. As an adult, I’ve learned daily maintenance is easier and more effective.

As a steward, I have learned my relationship with my Creator is much the same. It requires consistent involvement. My soul gets scuffed and dirty at times. Maintenance of my relationship with God deserves my constant attention. Those things we do occasionally or irregularly we usually are not very good at. Daily prayer and worship is important and necessary. There is a reason we call it “practicing our faith.”

When I do call on God for help, he should not be a stranger. It is important that I stay close to him through regular prayer. Like polishing my shoes each morning, giving daily attention to my prayers adds depth and richness to my life. Like my shoeshine box, God will always be there for me. When I need him, I don’t need to go looking for him, he is right there next to me.

Dear God: Stay close… I might need you today.

“Many people pray as if God were a big aspirin pill; they come only when they hurt.” ~ B. Graham Dienert

© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Director of Development for Southeast Ventura County YMCA. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.