My Mother’s Shoes by Kathleen Maass


On August 22, 2014, my mother trans- ferred her permanent residence to a mansion in glory. As the only daughter, it was my responsibility to take care of the personal items she leſt behind. We gathered her things, sorted, cleaned them, and loaded them in the back of my vehicle to head for the donation center. At the last minute I caught sight of her everyday shoes. I quickly retrieved them and set them aside in the garage near the steps to the entry of our home. To me there was something holy about her shoes, and I could not part with them.


Every day I would come home from


work, park my vehicle in the garage, catch a glimpse of her shoes on my way into the house and ask myself, “Why can’t I part with my mother’s shoes?”


Maybe it is because my mother spent


her life on her feet, I reasoned — first be- hind a team of horses as she helped her dad in the field, next teaching in a one-room school house, and then, in front of the stove, the dishwashing sink, the washing machine and the clothesline as she raised seven children, welcomed their spouses into her brood and spoiled 19 grandchil- dren. She didn’t spend much time in a rocking chair until the great-grandchil- dren came.


Days went by. I come home from


work, park my vehicle in the garage, catch a glimpse of her shoes on my way into the house and ask myself, “Why can’t I part with my mother’s shoes?”


Perhaps it’s because it’s the only thing


my mother spent money on for herself, I pondered. Her wardrobe was either handmade or off the sale rack. Te few expensive items she wore were received as giſts aſter we carefully removed the tags so she could not guess the price. However, her shoes were name brand and high quality. “Cheap shoes ruin your feet,” she preached.


Days turned into weeks. I come home


from work, park my vehicle in the garage, catch a glimpse of her shoes on my way


into the house and ask myself, “Why can’t I part with my mother’s shoes?”


“Is it because her shoes represent her


extraordinary discipline?” I questioned. She was recognized as a lifetime member of KOPS® (Keep Off Pounds Sensibly)! How many people do you know that lost significant weight and kept it off for more than 30 years? She made caramel rolls for me at least a thousand times, but I never saw her eat one. Walking was part of her maintenance strategy: four miles around the section at first, but aſter her energy waned, two miles in the morning and another two in the evening. When we worried about her safety on the country road, she bought an orange hat and kept walking. When she moved into assisted living, she walked the halls; when she could no longer do that, she insisted on buying a pedal contraption that allowed her to sit and move her feet.


Weeks pass. I come home from work,


park my vehicle in the garage, catch a glimpse of her shoes on my way into the house and ask myself, “Why can’t I part with my mother’s shoes?”


Maybe it is her spiritual walk that


fascinates me. Looking through her things, we found the notes she wrote to herself demonstrating her total and daily dependence on God. Te best giſt she gave to us was her insistence on immediate obe- dience. She taught us by her example how to respond with the same kind of obedi- ence to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. If you have a hunch to mail a card, call a friend, encourage the neighbor with baked goods or whisper a prayer for someone, “Do it today!” she would caution, “Tomor- row will have opportunities of its own.”


Weeks turn to months. I come home


from work, park my vehicle in the garage, catch a glimpse of her shoes on my way into the house and ask myself, “Why can’t I part with my mother’s shoes?”


When Jesus wanted to show the full extent of his love to those closest to him,


he grabbed a towel, bowed down before them, and washed their feet. Aſter that he walked to Calvary to pay the price for my eternal life. While it is difficult to wrap my brain around the dimensions of love like this, I believe because I have experienced unconditional love firsthand. My mother’s commitment to her calling, her financial stewardship, her extraordinary discipline and her faithful obedience to the Holy Spirit introduced me to the incomparable riches of God’s love for me.


I know it is strange — but I clung to


my mother’s shoes because they were phys- ical evidence of how much God loves me.


Ten one day I walked through the


Prairie Center at work and noticed a sign requesting the donation of gently used shoes. I knew immediately that God had someone specific in mind — another mother living out her calling with size 9, narrow, aching feet because she couldn’t afford the kind of shoes that don’t ruin your feet. I knew what my mother would expect. Te next day I walked out of the house, picked up her shoes, got in my vehicle, drove to the Prairie Center and dropped off the shoes. Now I pray another daughter knows how very much God loves her.


Kathleen Maass with her mother, Mrs. Paul (Hulda) Stahl


Kathleen Maass lives in Sioux Falls, SD. She and her husband Randy have served the EMB Country Church of Marion, S.D., for the past 12 years. Kathleen has been a health- care professional for more than 40 years. She enjoys travel and spending time with the couple’s son Zac and his wife, Kayse.


Fellowship Focus, May/June 2020 15


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24