By Shawnacee McCary
A few months ago, our family had the distinct honor and privilege of "moving." It quickly became apparent however, that "honor and privilege" were gross overstatements in reference to moving. Upon finding myself amidst boxes, newspaper and packing tape, I discovered that we are collectors of a sort. I haunt the local antique shops on a weekly basis looking for that choice knick-knack, and then, there are shoes, oh yes, shoes.
My teenage daughter fancies herself a photographer and has an addiction to disposable cameras to which there seems to be no cure. And then, yes, there are shoes. My youngest daughter Pastor’s a congregation larger than our own of Barbies. And they all own shoes. Never a matching pair mind you, but shoes nonetheless.
Now my husband is the worst of the whole bunch! He is a collector of all things odd. Of course he can never purchase anything even remotely in keeping with the decor of the main house, therefore, his collection is relegated to his rather smallish home office made smaller by almost 3,000 (no not shoes) books! So, you can imagine the state I found myself in as I stood in our new home on moving day.
During one of my more lucid moments I vaguely recall asking my husband to retrieve a particular item for me. I was especially pleased because this item was the one piece of clothing of which I knew the exact location. "It's in the coat closet" I said. This "miracle coat" as we are fond of calling it carries with it a rich history.
One particularly cold and foggy winter in Turlock California, my husband found himself in dire need of a coat. In 1984 during the height of "80's" fashion, a "trenchcoat" was a must have for every Minister in the Central Valley. However, being newly married and living on a Minister's meager salary, a coat ranked low on our priority list. So, we prayed. We prayed and asked God for a miracle of a coat for my husband.
I will never forget that Sunday night as long as I live. As we arrived home late following our evening service, we pulled into the parking spot of our palatial one bedroom apartment which was located right next to a dumpster. As our headlights sliced a beam through the thick fog, something caught my eye, something neatly folded and lying across the dumpster. I cried out for my husband to stop the car and allow the headlights to remain upon the mystery item. To our great shock and surprise, there lying across the dumpster was a grey, wool trenchcoat!
Right there in the freezing cold, illuminated by our headlights, I thrust this miracle toward my husband who stood there stunned and said "Well, don't just stand there, try it on!" It fit like a glove. As we carried it up to our apartment for a closer inspection we found that it was in excellent shape save for a few very small moth holes in the back. And it was in keeping with the fashion of the day! My husband was not only going to be warm, he would by stylin' as well! Oh what fun we had on the eve of our move retelling this story to our children.
I discovered while packing that we had acquired quite a collection of miracles over the years. For instance that old expired medicine bottle that never needed refilling, baptismal certificates, the picture of my daughter before her surgery to remove benign tumors. Or how about that special card someone had sent with words of encouragement just when I needed them, bills that were no longer "due", and on and on the list goes of miracles that had accumulated over the years.
I sold many items in yard sales as we prepared to make our move, but this collection will forever remain. They're not shoes, but they are priceless and they never, ever wear out.
