The Impact of Tradition

Years ago, right after my family moved to Dallas, we heard that Operation Care hosted a Christmas party for the homeless in downtown Dallas. Kim and I decided to take our seven- and ten-year-old children. It sounded like a great chance to serve the poor around the holidays and expose the kids to a part of society they would never see in the suburbs north of Dallas.

It was a wonderful event, hosted in a huge convention center. Thousands of homeless people either walked there or took special, event buses from across the metroplex. They received “gifts” of toiletry bags, blankets, shoes, haircuts, and coats. Lunch followed. Throughout the day, people prayed with them and focused on the true importance of Christmas. It was beautiful and unlike anything I had ever seen.

Halfway through our serving time my daughter, Erin, and I went to the foot washing area. The job was straightforward. We would introduce ourselves to the guests, then remove their socks and shoes, clean their feet with wet wipes and rub them with powder. Next, we fit them with new socks and shoes. It was humbling. I had never seen sights like those hiding underneath the soiled socks and shoes. My eyes were opened and my heart cried out.

The next year we went again, but the kids brought friends with them. We migrated to the foot-washing and shoe area because it offered a controlled environment to watch over our young ones. Since we were now “regulars”, we bought t-shirts and acted like veterans.

My favorite part was the small-talk with the guests of our party. We would chat about their favorite part of the holidays, what they thought about the party and other things friends share. We were so similar in spirit but so different in circumstance. Our worlds grew smaller as we connected.

On year three, we brought half a dozen pairs of work boots from WalMart to take with us. Living outside in the cold of winter is harsh, and work boots were the most common request due to their warmth and dryness. Operation Care had become a tradition larger than our family, so we began to take our family and the friends with us to celebrate afterward with the lunch of the kids’ choice. Steak n Shake – party of six, please.

As the years passed, we began setting aside more money and bringing more work boots with us. The handful of pairs became lawn-sized trash bags that were nearly too heavy to carry. Everyone in the family invited more friends. Kim’s father moved in with us and joined us in our biggest party of the year.

Others noticed the joyful faces when the work boots were received and asked about donating to increase our gift. People who were originally uncomfortable washing the feet of the poor became emboldened. The spirit of Christmas moved through us.

More than a decade has passed since our first trip to the convention center for a Christmas party honoring forgotten people. Our family car has turned into a caravan, donations now flow through a nonprofit, we are approaching 1,000 pairs of work boots given to the homeless and impoverished of our city, other groups follow our example in the “gifts” they bring with them, and our serving team is regularly featured in the event’s promotional materials.

There are years I have wanted to break tradition, to do something else with that day. Sometimes, I’ve been tempted to channel my donations to a cause that had captured my attention at the moment.

So far, we have stayed the course. We’ve been blessed that God has given us gentle reminders of the impact emerging from our perseverance.

My kids are now grown and live in other cities which makes their participation questionable. However, a few weeks ago, I was blessed to see one of them stop to give a restaurant take-home bag to a homeless person we passed on the street. Later, I saw the other chat with someone who was losing everything due to their own actions responding with love and acceptance.

We will go to the party again in a few days. The fruit of our labor may have taken years to grow but I am thankful that we chose to stay where we were planted. Our roots have grown deep here.

I love the people of my city and can’t wait to see their smiling faces again.

Merry Christmas.

Note: A special thank you to Gary Daniels, who faithfully photographs the event and took most of these pictures. We are blessed to know you. Also to Bill Krahulik, whose enduring leadership has encouraged us to stay the course.

If you are interested in serving at Operation Care, visit
https://operationcareinternational.org/