A few weeks ago, Compassion supported TOMS Shoes’ worldwide campaign called “A Day Without Shoes.”

The idea was for each of us to take off our shoes for 24 hours to learn what reality is like for the 300 million children around the world who don’t have a pair of shoes, to raise awareness for these young ones, and to encourage individuals to get involved – either by buying a pair of TOMS (for every pair you purchase, they give a pair of shoes to a child who doesn’t have any) or by providing shoes to a child directly.

How was my day without shoes?

I hated it.

You have no idea how badly I want to sugarcoat the experience. Not for you, but for me. I’m totally ashamed that I spent the day feeling so miserable. But miserable I was.

The day of the campaign brought a morning of intense rain, crazy wind, and tornado watches in northwest D.C. Inconvenient on a good day. But did I mention that I don’t have a car? And that it was cold? And that I was scheduled to go to a policy briefing with political and academic leaders?

I didn’t go.

Yes, that’s right. A hardcore professional with workaholic tendencies, I played hooky that morning. All because I didn’t want to walk in the rain and show up at a briefing in my suit and drenched, dirty feet. I thought it would make me look bad.

But it gets better. I managed to not leave my house until 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

What finally dragged me out the door? The rain had stopped and I desperately needed groceries. Stomachs are powerful influencers.

One other thing inspired me to go outside: people. Specifically, the people from all over the world who were manning up on a much grander scale than I was and posting stories of their experiences online.

• One lady went through airport security and traveled from the west to east coast, barefoot the entire time.
• One woman spoke of landing in her hometown in northern Canada and joyfully sprinting through the snow to make it home before her toes froze. (Joyfully was her word, not mine.)
• College kids shared about being harassed by professors and security personnel for not wearing shoes, and some were even getting kicked out of their classrooms for “lack of hygiene” or being “unsanitary.”
• A few people reported that they were denied access to grocery stories and other shops.

Everyone else seemed to be having the time of their life, so I decided I could make it half a mile to the grocery store.

Along the way, I realized something I should have remembered at the beginning of the day: I live in D.C. Most people are way too busy to notice that you might not be wearing shoes.

During the one-mile round-trip walk to the store and my time shopping inside, only one person noticed my feet — and this was a teenage girl who didn’t bother to ask me about it.

Maybe she was worried I would ask for money?

My initial fear of rejection and hypothermia out of the way, I grabbed my jacket and headed for the bus. I needed to trek across town for my small group that met that evening, and the metro stop I wanted to catch was two and a half miles away.

I waited for the bus for about 20 minutes. People definitely noticed my feet but no one said anything. I’m no germaphobe, but taking a public bus and a public metro rail in your bare feet will quickly change that. Where everyone else had walked that day was suddenly something I felt a need to speculate about in great detail.

I was annoyed that my feet were cold and wet from the rain. I was becoming increasingly paranoid that someone wouldn’t look where they were going and step on my feet. Mostly I was angry with myself for thinking that life without a car was a good idea, financial and urban-transit prudence aside.

I arrived across town in one piece, both feet still intact. Along the way I was a bit surprised to discover that escalators hurt your feet more than sticks and stones, and the mental trepidation of fearing that a 250-pound man will step on your foot is much worse than when it actually happens.

Armed with newfound faith in my ability to handle the streets with my feet a la carte, I picked my way around a winding sidewalk and across a large parking lot covered in gravel to the church where my group was meeting.

Ironically, the evening at church turned out to be the most difficult part of the day. Inside and warm, I was peppered with questions about why on earth I was walking around without shoes. As I energetically jumped into an explanation, I watched my friends’ faces take on that “We think you’re crazy but probably won’t say so out loud” expression.

I half expected, or maybe just hoped, that someone would offer me a ride home afterwards, but they all took one last look at my feet and  disappeared one at a time without saying anything more.

It was a sobering moment for me, wondering how my own church (which I love and know is filled with people who love Jesus and actively live that out in their love for others) would respond to someone who walked in the door with bare, dirty feet.

The end of the day found me walking two and a half miles home from the return metro stop. It was a nice night but, inconveniently, one on which half the bus drivers apparently didn’t show up for work.

Fortunately, by then I was coming to terms with what it means to walk barefoot through a big city and I was no longer trying to come up with excuses for why it would be wise of me to stop by a shoe store on the way home.

I can’t say that my day without shoes had much of an impact on anyone else.

It did, however, have a very significant impact on me.

Every single worry I had? I only had to deal with it for a day.

But on a daily basis, with no end in sight and no reason to believe their reality will ever change, how many people do you suppose stay inside and can’t go to work on days filled with rain or storms because they don’t have a pair of shoes?

How many kids are refused access to school or to a grocery store? How many kids end up with diseases that kill or seriously threaten their health, all because of a disease or fungus they picked up while navigating the streets in their bare feet?

One day before, I’d had this funny illusion that since I owned only about 12 pairs of shoes, I was living the simple life.

I am astounded by how much I take for granted. And I’m determined that life doesn’t have to be like this forever.

I am making a commitment to not buy another pair of shoes unless I also buy a pair for a child who doesn’t have any. Care to join me?

“The opposite of poverty isn’t wealth. The opposite of poverty is enough.” –Wess Stafford

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In a big city like D.C. where I spend much of my time, it’s not uncommon for someone who is homeless to stop you and ask for some help. It’s a little more unusual for someone to ask for something that doesn’t involve money.
 
A couple of weeks ago I was sitting outside a Starbucks at a round cafe table, making a quick list of notes before heading off to an evening meeting. A man with graying black hair, probably in his 60s, scuttled up to the table while I was deep in thought, dressed in a tattered ocean blue T-shirt and ragged khakis. I don’t know how long he was standing there before he politely cleared his throat to get my attention.
 

“I was wondering if you would be willing to buy me some dinner.”

 
I apologized that I had to leave in a few minutes and wouldn’t be able to go with him, but pulled out the five dollar bill in my wallet and handed it to him while asking his name.

“My name is John,” he replied. I introduced myself, told him it was a pleasure to make his acquaintance, and pretty much wished him good luck while subconsciously wishing him off.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him fingering the bill in his hands while I pulled my mess of papers together and stuffed them in my bag.
 
“Excuse me,” John asked again.
 
I turned and looked at him expectantly.
 

“I was wondering if maybe you would give me a hug. I haven’t had one of those in a really long time.”

 
It was a strange moment, one I felt would look very odd to anyone peering down on us from nearby windows, but I stood up and gave that old man a hug. As soon as I did, I realized that I was hugging a person who was literally no more than skin and bones. I realized I had never hugged a pile of skin and bones before, and I wondered why.
 
John told me thank you, patted me on the shoulder in a grandfatherly sort of way, told me to “be good” and “stay safe on these streets,” and wandered back down the sidewalk.
 
Mother Teresa often said that the greatest poverty in this world is not a lack of resources, but the feeling of being unwanted. I can take your money, but I don’t really need it; God can provide money, she would tell visitors. But I would have you reach out and touch one of these dear ones and show them that they are wanted, that they mean something to you.
 
This understanding is one of the reasons Compassion’s relationship-based child sponsorship model is so powerful. Compassion links sponsors with children in a relationship so that sponsors can build up these little ones and, as so many of us sponsors have found over the years, the kids more than return the favor.
 
But regardless of our financial situation, each of us has the ability to make sure that those around us don’t experience the greatest poverty of all — the poverty of being unwanted.

Yes, kids that live in physical poverty need to be told time and again that they are loved and cherished. But the children we come in contact with each and every day, who live in our neighborhood, on our block, in our house, are just as susceptible to this deepest form of poverty.
 
I have good news for you, but it comes with a certain level of responsibility. It is fully within your power to change the world of a child and make it rich. You can be willing to walk slowly enough through this life that you will see the young ones who cross your path, and take the time that is necessary to let them know how important they are. 
 
No child should live in poverty. No child should have to grow up to wander the streets and beg not only for money but for someone to tell them they are worth a hug. Whether they do or not is up to us.

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This is the story of how our beloved president, Wess Stafford, traveled to Washington D.C., rubbed shoulders with the mighty and powerful and still managed to return home the same humble man that we adore.

Take it away, Wess.

So where to start . . . ? The first thing that surprised me about visiting the White House was how little security I had to go through to get in. It was easier than boarding a United flight — I didn’t even have to take off my shoes! (Actually, I’m sure they did their homework in advance.) It was really amazing though to just walk freely through the hall to the East Room, past all the famous pictures — just like you see it on TV.

After waiting at the door for my arrival to be “announced” (I was known as “Dr. Stafford” for the evening.), I noticed that everyone who entered after me all had titles of “The Honorable” and “His Excellency” and such.

It seemed like most of the other guests were accustomed to this kind of formal event, and I was feeling pretty out of place, until I noticed another equally-miserable looking fellow across the room. I introduced myself to him and was thrilled to learn that our organizations had a lot it common. We had a nice, lengthy conversation, and when I finally turned my attention back to the room I realized that it was now full and that President Bush himself had arrived. It was so strange to be right there in the same room with him!

Next, each of the guests was announced again as we individually entered a private room with President and Mrs. Bush and President and Mrs. Kufour for a brief visit and a photo. I wish I had given more thought to what I would say to each of them, but I kind of had to wing it.

The first person in the line was President Bush. I thanked him for his leadership and said, “I don’t know if you know this or not, Sir, but your dad sponsored a little boy from the Philippines with Compassion. And he wasn’t just a sponsor, he was a good sponsor — he wrote letters in his own hand to his sponsored child.

Of course, there were special safety concerns with this sponsorship. For instance, if the wrong people learned that a former President of the United States was sponsoring this little guy, he may have been kidnapped and held for ransom. So we asked your dad to not to mention his ‘career history’ in his letters. This led to some interesting correspondence.

In one letter he included a photo of his little dog and told the child ‘she knows lots of famous people.’ In another letter, after you became President, he mentioned that he would be spending Christmas with his son, ‘who lives in a big white house.’”

As I went down the line I thanked Laura Bush for being such a champion of children. I told President Kufour that, although we’ve only been in the country of Ghana for a few years, we have chosen to place our West Africa Area Office there because of the country’s stability.

I also told him that our staff in Ghana have told me how loved he is by his people and that they would elect him for another term if they could. I thanked him for demonstrating that power can change hands in Africa with dignity and grace.

Next, I spoke with Theresa Kufour. I had learned that she had been a midwife, and I thanked her for all she had done to love and care for children. After the photo was taken and I was beginning to leave the room, I was surprised to hear President Bush call out after me.

He said, “I know I’ve just met you this evening Doc, but I love your heart!” Now, he may have said that to everyone that evening, but it sure meant a lot to me!

After the photos were taken we made our way to the Lincoln State Room, walking past a huge orchestra along the way!

This was a dinner like none I’ve ever attended. There were five forks in the place setting. (Thankfully I remembered something about starting from the outside and working in toward the plate!) There were more goblets and glasses than I knew what to do with, and a huge, elaborately rimmed dinner plate.

The plates must have been 18 inches across. They were huge — too big to fit in my tux jacket. I know, because I tried!

From where I was seated, I could look straight ahead and all at one time see President Bush, Vice President Cheney and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. It was just surreal to be looking at all those famous faces — I felt like I must be in a wax museum!

During dinner I was seated next to a delightful young lady named Elizabeth. I noticed that the last name on her name badge said “Cheney,” but I decided not to bring that up unless she did.

It turns out that she studied Political Science at The Colorado College in Colorado Springs and has traveled to Africa through her former work with the U.S. Agency for International Development. So we had a lot to talk about with our shared connections to both Colorado Springs and Africa. In fact, I almost got her in trouble by causing her to laugh hysterically just as President Bush was ready to begin his speech!

After both leaders had given brief talks, President Bush announced that he had a surprise for us and asked us to join him in the Rose Garden. (As we were leaving the Lincoln State Room I had the opportunity to speak briefly with Condoleezza Rice and tell her how much I appreciated her courageous leadership during difficult times. I was surprised by how petite she is in real life and by how genuinely engaged she was in our conversation.)

When we arrived in the Rose Garden — it was the most perfect, calm evening that you can imagine with the smell of roses in the air — we were treated to a performance by the cast of “The Lion King.” Then as I was leaving the Rose Garden, I felt a tug on my sleeve and turned to find my friend from dinner saying “I’ve got to introduce you to my dad!” So, Elizabeth took me directly to Dick Cheney and told him that I’m from Colorado Springs, and so on. Can you imagine?! What an evening!

But there is one more thing that I think you’ll be interested in hearing.

After I returned to my hotel, I decided to take a stroll to a convenience store around the corner. (I like to have milk and cookies before bed . . . even after the amazing food that was served at the White House!)

As I was walking I heard a voice ask, “Are you having a nice evening?” When I turned to see who was speaking to me, I saw a young homeless man standing there. I answered, “Yeah . . . I’m actually having a pretty amazing evening!” We spoke for quite awhile, and he told me about his situation — the mistakes he knew he’d made in his life and his future dreams. I shared with him that God can redeem anything and had an opportunity to pray with him before we parted ways. When I returned to my hotel room I was up for hours trying to process all that had happened that evening. I was just overwhelmed by God’s goodness.

In a matter of hours I went from the company of powerful world leaders, in whom I could sense God’s presence, to this young man on the street, where I also distinctly saw the spark of God. It was such an amazing contrast, yet such a unifying experience. We all have the same value to God, and He loves us all equally, no matter what our circumstances are. What an awesome God we serve!”

How did this all come about?

Wess was as surprised as the rest of us to hear that he’d been invited to a state dinner at the White House. He says he was shocked to arrive in Washington D.C. and learn that he was supposed to attend a state dinner and not a “steak” dinner. It’s a good thing he has a smart assistant who insisted he squeeze this trip into his schedule and twisted his arm to rent a tux.

This was the sixth (and most likely the last) state dinner hosted by President Bush. The dinner was held to honor Ghanaian President John Kufour and his wife, Theresa, and to celebrate the strong relationship between the two leaders, which has been solidified by Ghana’s commitment to free-market economics and democracy and President Bush’s support of U.S. aid to Africa.

Compassion has been ministering to children in Africa for decades and began working in Ghana in 2004.

President Bush described his dinner guests as “compassionate people” who care about Africa’s future. We’re assuming that Wess was honored with this invitation through a White House staffer’s diligent research of organizations that are making a positive impact in Ghana.

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