When was the last time you went into a REAL store? What do I mean by real store? I mean a store that isn’t one of those cookie cutter chains. I mean a store that doesn’t have words like, “super”, “mart”, “city”, “outlet” or “shack” in the title. I mean a store that isn’t part of a strip mall, or shopping complex. I mean a store that is an independently owned and family run.

While you scratch your head and try to figure out if such a store really exists in this world of megamarts and franchisehuts, let me tell you about the REAL store I recently visited. It’s called Taylors Shoes and it is just around the corner from where I live.

I had noticed the store before. Actually, I had dropped by and looked at the display case many times, but I never entered the store because I knew by the quality of the merchandise in the window that this wasn’t the kind of shoe store a guy with a wife and three kids frequents. Still, I admired the quality. I wondered what it was like on the other side of the door, but I was afraid to enter, lest I be found out by my discounted, discontinued, slightly irregular Nikes.

But, then the unimaginable happened-I won a $50 gift certificate to Taylor’s shoes from some Father’s Day draw. Here was my opportunity to have some really good quality shoes for preaching in on Sundays (everyone knows that good preaching shoes are essential. You need something substantial to stand up to all that fire and brimstone!) After talking with Sheila, I decided to take the plunge and I entered the store with a quite sense of reverence.

I knew that the store had to have been there for at least sixty years. It has weathered the ups and downs of our area and it has remained a viable entity. I appreciate longevity. Longevity says something. Longevity proves something.

As I walked in the store, my senses took me back to my childhood. I immediately remembered the smell. It was the smell of a REAL shoe store. I remember the service. The gentleman, seasoned by the years, was professional, dignified, and helpful without being pushy. More than that, this man knew shoes. He ushered me around and we discussed what I was looking for. My gasps at some of the price tags gave me away, as did the sweat on my brow, but Mr. Taylor never drew attention to the fact that I was shoe store riff raff. Instead he got me to sit down, took off my shoe and pulled out his wooden foot measurer. Do you remember them? They have two sliders on them, one to measure width and the other to measure length. He did the measuring; being careful to get me to stand so that the measurements would be accurate, and he measured both feet! Then he got the shoes. He took them out of the box and used a beautiful shoehorn to insert my feet into the shoes then he tied the laces. He checked the fit and made me walk around and basically treated me like royalty-at least that’s how it felt. It had been so long since I had been treated that way in a store that I almost felt embarrassed! If I wasn’t a manly man, a tear may very well have welled up in one (only one) of my eyes.

Throughout this experience all I could do was think of when I was a small boy. The smells, the wooden foot sizer, the shoe horn, even the tying of the laces sparked familiar memories. Experiences I had long forgotten surfaced again. For a few brief minutes I was in another time-a time when people valued costumers, a time when knowledge and skill and service touched your soul and not just your wallet, a time when customers were people and not just profits.

I went to pay for the shoes and noticed that he still had his original cash register. He did have a calculator-one concession to the modern age, but the cash register was one of those big, ornate steel and brass jobbies with well worn keys. I asked him about it and his reply was quite simple-”it still works well, so why would I replace it?” Why indeed! I walked out of the store feeling better than when I went in. Why? Well, it wasn’t because of my purchase-although I love the shoes. No, I felt better because, for a brief period of time, I was made to feel valued, important and comfortable. No wonder the store has weathered the storms of retail-treating people with dignity and care will never go out of style!

Seems to me that the Church could learn a thing or two from Taylor’s shoe store-I sometimes wonder if we have gotten into the cookie cuter franchise business where we follow around the latest success story and try to duplicate it in our context. I know that many think that new things are better-just because they are new, but isn’t that our culture coming into the Church? Isn’t that the advertiser’s brainwashing speaking? You know, we always have to have the new, improved, latest thingie on the market.

Don’t get me wrong-new things reach new people and we need to make sure that whatever we are doing is communicating the gospel in a relevant way. But, having said that, can we not see that there is great value in connecting each generation to the generations before them? Isn’t there something we can learn from the faithful we follow? Aren’t there some familiar sights and sounds and smells to a sincere faith that will touch anyone’s heart? I am not talking about mindless tradition here, or religious observance, I am talking about genuine faith that speaks to any time.

Regardless of what we try, let’s make sure that the gospel remains the gospel and that the hallmark of your church is that you treat everyone with the same kind of care and dignity with which Taylor shoes treated me. Trust me–love, care and respect will never go out of style. If I’m wrong, I’ll eat my shoes. No, not my new ones!

I imagine it as your typical, “touch someone” phone commercial moment that makes you miss everyone you’ve ever met (OK, almost everyone).

Stephen and Beth were at the airport saying goodbye to Kathleen, their daughter. Kathleen is fifteen years-old and she is heading off to a suburb of Paris for the next three months as part of an international exchange program. What an amazing opportunity!

I wonder how she is feeling right now. To be so far from home, on your own, in a new culture—you can’t help but see this as one of those “rite of passage” moments. I imagine she is going to be lonely, but also excited and so busy doing and seeing and experiencing that these three months will fly by.

I received an email from Beth today. She mentioned that there were a few tears. How could it be any other way? Life is going to be different without Kathleen there—even though, Heather their youngest is still around. It is kind of a taste of what is to come, a mini empty nest preview.

It will be interesting to see what everyone discovers about themselves, and each other, over the next three months. Will their idea of family change? Will letting go be more or less difficult than anticipated?

I couldn’t help but think about our own family. John, our oldest, seems to become more independent by the day. His focus this year has definitely shifted outward; away from the family. This has caused me to have several ponderable moments about what life will be like sans kids.

This new life, or as some might like to call it, this return to sanity, will certainly have its advantages. Sheila and I can pour ourselves more into ministry without having to worry that we are shortchanging the kids. The house will be cleaner with Sheila and I being the only ones responsible for the clutter. At least, let’s hope so! Still, it is going to be very different. They do indeed grow up fast!

I love watching my boys. It is almost a detached observer thing I’ve been experiencing lately. Like they are my boys, but at the same time, they are these different creatures as well. It’s a wonderful realization to note that you love spending time with your kids because they are neat people; not because you have to. My boys make me laugh. They make me think. They challenge me and I hope I challenge them as well.

Life moves on. Change comes; whether we like it on not. No season lasts forever. That is part of living. I hope I am wise enough to cherish the seasons I’ve had and to also welcome those that will come. The truth is that I haven’t. Sometimes I think I have all the time in the world to enjoy what I presently have. Sometimes I’m just too busy to enjoy anything. Hopefully I am learning.

Ultimately, it’s the transitions of life that make me appreciate the unchangeable nature of my Heavenly Father. I need that kind of a foundation to stand on or the ride gets just too scary.

I recently did a funeral for one of my neighbours. A relative of theirs passed away. Let’s call him Eddie. Eddie died in my neighbour’s home–surrounded by friends and family.

I’ve done lots of funerals, but I can count on one hand the number of people who have had the comfort of dying at home. To my neighbours, it was just what you do for family, no big deal. To me it was a great gift!

I realize that many families wouldn’t be able to so something like this. Not everyone has the time or the people at home to pull it off, but it is just such a precious gift.

I didn’t know Eddie. To be honest, I don’t really like doing funerals under those kinds of conditions. A funeral is about saying goodbye to someone we know and loved. It is as personal as it gets. Personal connection is required or the purpose of the funeral isn’t fulfilled.

In this case, that wasn’t a problem. This man was so well liked and such a character that everyone I talked to had an Eddie story to tell. I felt like I knew him. During the eulogy we opened the floor to anyone who wanted to share. It was a tremendous time. Some of the memories were a bit rough around the edges, but there was a lot of love.

Eddie lived over thirty years on my street in Toronto. He lived on our street at a time when everyone knew everyone else. Everyone was in and out of everyone else’s homes and moms and dads were moms and dads for the street. There was a tremendous sense of community.

Eddie had lots of trouble throughout his life. He had his problems, conflicts, disappointments and addictions, but all that aside, I can tell you that this man was deeply loved because he was a lover himself. He knew how to be a friend. He knew sacrifice. He knew loyalty. He was a giver and because of that, people just seemed to accept and overlook the mistakes, faults and struggles. I think much of his charm in having people overlook his shortcomings had to do with his ability to make people laugh. How can you stay mad at someone who makes you laugh?

The funeral was full of people who were mostly strangers to me, but by the end I was drawn in. I became part of it. I saw the bonds. I saw the memories that connected hearts. I saw the laughter that made the pain fade. I saw the acceptance of a less than perfect life because it was a life that was part of theirs.

Community is a powerful thing. Laughter is a powerful thing. Love is a powerful thing. Acceptance is a powerful thing. Family is a powerful thing. The Church could learn a lot from Eddie’s funeral.