"Take these socks," said Ester, from Denmark. "They look nice and warm."
I wasn't sure; I had so many pairs of socks already, and these looked too thick to fit inside my shoes.
"You'll need them to keep warm when you get back to Canada," she persisted.
We were at a girls' staff gathering at the YWAM base in Lausanne, Switzerland. The staff had evidently been told to bring an item to put onto the "gift table". We were supposed to select something to keep, as a way of being blessed. At first I didn't really get it. After all, no one had mentioned to me about bringing anything. Was I still supposed to choose something? There were candles, scarves, hats, toiletry items and miscellaneous "stuff".
"All right," I finally said to Ester, and took the pair of socks. They were wonderful, soft socks made of white wool. I love wool; it's so warm and cosy.
Later, on another occasion, I was staring down at Ester's feet as we all sat in a meeting. She was wearing a pair of socks much like the ones I had picked out, but worn-looking. Was it Ester who had generously given up her spare pair of socks just to be able to bless someone else? I was impressed, but still hadn't found an occasion to wear the socks.
Until we arrived home to Canada.
We were taking our little travel trailer down south to Arizona, at a time when no one else was travelling in RVs. (recreational vehicles) It was the end of December. Normally, we would travel in mid-October, when the weather is usually still conducive to clear highway travel. When we went to where the trailer was parked in our friend's field, it was -24 Celsius, with a wind chill of -34. Terry had to connect the trailer to the vehicle, while I stood on a small ladder we had brought to sweep off the foot of snow on its roof.
Finally we were on our way. The roads, mercifully, were clear. It was hard to imagine it being so cold outside, as the sun shone all day. That evening we reached our destination--the parking lot of the Walmart store in Great Falls, Montana. This is one place we knew we could spend the night in relative safety. We didn't want a fancy campsite, in fact wondered if campsites were even open. Since we had no water in the trailer, we were going to get a quick meal at Walmart at their Subway, and then go to bed for an early start the next morning.
However, the furnace didn't work! What was wrong? We had plenty of propane. Was the battery dead? My resourceful husband ran the car to run the furnace to heat up the trailer a bit. We put the duvets inside the car to get rid of their icy chill. After about 15 minutes, we turned off the engine, took the warmed covers and climbed into our bed, fully clothed. We both wore our tuques (knitted hats) and I kept on the cozy circular scarf Annie had knit me for Christmas. The socks! I remembered the bulky wool socks that were too thick for my shoes. I dug them out, and slipped them over my regular socks. They say you can't get to sleep unless your feet are warm. To my surprise, I slept all night, carefully keeping my nose under the covers.
I don't know if the socks were really from Ester, but I think about her every time I wear them now. Sometimes I kick them off in the middle of the night, but what a wonderful way to get cozy at bedtime.
Here in the Indio Hills, California, it is not that warm, and I have been grateful for my wool socks.
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