OOKING AT ME FOR THE FIRST TIME, you probably wouldn't take me for a sophisticated world traveler. You'd be partly right. I may not have much sophistication, but I do have one world travel under my belt. It was a rather inauspicious beginning.

My grandchildren and their parents were living in a developing country on assignment for the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA), and I felt that nine months was long enough to be deprived of them. After all, my granddaughter, Maggie, was only 11 months old, and my grandson, Wesley, not quite 5. I had no noble motives; I was just a grandmother feeling a bit lonely for my chicks.

Three weeks before our departure I threw out during one of our pretrip conversations, "Does anybody there need anything?" It was really rather an absurd question; the needs in this place were staggering. My daughter passed on a request for children's shoes for a local orphanage. There was no expectation on my part (or hers) that this would become a major project. Only a few months before, our local church had sent 70 new coats along with long underwear, hats, and gloves to another orphanage.

That project took months, and it seemed too soon to start another. But after thinking it over I decided to call a few businesses in town and send a couple letters. The preparations for the trip would occupy all my free time; there wasn't time to do anything big. My personal policy for any project is, whenever possible, to send only new things. Children in desperate need rarely see new clothing. It's tremendously difficult to send things to this country, and it hardly seemed worth it to send old stuff. Besides, I try not to give away anything I wouldn't give to my own child.

The Beginning of Something Big
When I stood before my home church and mentioned I could take shoes to an orphanage, I really thought Sam (my 10-year-old) and I could squeeze any shoes that came in between the stuff we packed in our own luggage. After all, we were allowed four 70-pound boxes. We would take used or new, because they considered used American shoes superior to the new ones available at the local market.

The first phone call I received was the most shocking. "My husband and I went shopping tonight, and we bought 88 pairs of shoes," said the caller. "I had such fun picking them out."

Subsequent calls were more normal, "I picked up three pairs."

Another caller reported, "There was a sale. I had to get the Mary Janes."

I had a master list and kept checking off "boys" or "girls" and the sizes. By Monday of the first week I was excited about what God was doing, and I told anyone who would listen.

The manager of a local Christian bookstore directed me to Payless Shoes. "They give shoes to charity from time to time," he said. "But make sure you contact a district manager. He's the only one with enough authority." I met a nice man by telephone, but it didn't seem as though he'd be able to help us.

By this time Sam and I had more shoes than we could carry in our baggage allotment. It was time to call British Airways. I was rather confident when I called to ask for two extra boxes for charity. Little did I know that Europeans have much smaller baggage allotments than Americans, and they think we are spoiled (we are).

Asking a Lot
The manager of this particular British Airways office had recently posted a directive against allowing extra luggage. Unaware of this, I wasn't ready for the response to my request. "No way, lady," the person on the phone answered. "They're never going to do that."

Hearing my disappointment, he relented only slightly, "You can call back and talk to my boss. He's on a conference call, and he'll be available in about 30 minutes."

After falling on my knees and pleading with God, I made three phone calls. I begged the principal at our church school to have the children stop whatever they were doing and pray. I also called my mother and brother-in-law with the same request. Fortified with prayer, I tried again. It took three calls and more than an hour of prayer before I reached "the boss." There was a totally different tone: "I'm not the right person to help you," he said. "But I'll find the right person, and I'll call you tomorrow."

The "right person" was on a plane to Rio, and his replacement was located, permission was granted, and I even received a call during the process to assure me that my situation had not been forgotten. The man doing the legwork for me and the woman with authority for the permission for extra baggage both wanted me to have their names in case of any problem.

God had done it again. Earliteens in a church three hours away were also buying shoes. One week before we left I took all the shoes and socks to church so that all church members could see the results. Did I mention socks? Donations of new socks kept almost exactly the pace of the shoes, generally brought by different people. By this time I was packing six china barrels with shoes wrapped in tissue paper (shoeboxes took up too much space).

Last-minute Petitions
We were set to leave on a Monday afternoon. The previous Thursday the district manager from Payless called several times. He was having difficulty arranging for a donation. I assured him there would be other projects, and I said we knew he had done his best.

On Friday afternoon I got another call from Mr. Gerace at Payless. "I don't like to say I'll do something and not follow through." I was told to pick up 85 pairs of shoes on Sunday afternoon. Now I had a dilemma. If we worked like mad we could get everything done, but where would we put them?

I had to call British Airways again, but I really didn't want to. I knew it was a bit pushy to ask for free shipping for the shoes in the first place. But God had provided the shoes, and I had no money for shipping. How could I call that sweet woman and tell her we needed two more boxes shipped?

The prayer before this call was intense and tearful. The answer to my query: "No problem."

There was very careful confirmation of our approval at the check-in for our flight. The agent explained that guidelines for extra baggage had become stricter, and almost no free extra baggage was allowed.

When we arrived at our destination, all our boxes had been left in London. By the time they arrived we were a painful five-hour car ride inland. Customs officials were reluctant to release all those boxes of shoes without a fee, as they suspected that we would try to sell them. Hanging up the phone, we were down on our knees again. About an hour later the boxes were on their way again, eight huge boxes inside and outside of a tiny Russian car. Every box arrived intact, every shoe unscratched.

I sat on the orphanage floor peeling grimy socks and shoes off tiny feet and replacing them with brand-new ones. Words are inadequate to describe the emotion I felt. I had no noble motives;
I just wanted to see my grandbabies. But God had a bigger, better plan.
I can't wait to see what He has in mind next.

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Carolyn Huffstickler writes from Fredericksburg, Virginia.