AP

There are times when we may feel disappointed with God, but in due course we may see a bigger picture and that God is forming our character.

I ticked off the items on the boarding-school list: ten pairs of pants, ten shirts, shoes, boots, pullovers, pjs, thick coat, raincoat, underpants…

One item remained: socks—sixteen pairs.

Sixteen? How could I get sixteen pairs each for Stephen, Paul, and Heather? At home, they managed with only a few pairs because we could wash them every day.

Sixteen times three = forty-eight pairs of socks!

The boarding master had explained: “In the monsoon downpours and freezing winters of these Himalayan foothills, the children need at least one dry pair every day. Laundry is done once a week—and can take a week to dry. That’s already 14, and two extras won’t go wrong.”

Only a few days remained before our three oldest children would start the new school year. I looked with satisfaction at the three open trunks before me, complimenting myself for collecting and labelling all the items. With careful foresight, I had gathered most things either from Australia, bought locally, made or given as hand-me-downs. But 48 pairs of socks?

Impossible!

I pushed the list aside and picked up my friend’s letter lying open on the table:

“With continuing prayer that the Lord will abundantly supply all your needs, far beyond all that you may think or ask. Love, Daphne.”

Easy for you to write, I thought. You’re in Australia.

Since moving to Pakistan to serve in Christian medical ministry, our family had far less money and fewer possessions. We had learned to live in the hot plains where we didn’t need socks, but that changed with the decision to place the kids in the Christian school.

We couldn’t afford forty-eight new pairs—and even if we could, I didn’t want them. I had scoured the local shops in Murree and only found thin nylon ones, expensive and inadequate to protect little feet in the severe cold and deep snow.

That evening, as I served up rice and lentils, I prayed silently. “Why haven’t you provided what we need? After all, Jesus said, ‘Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided to you.’” (Matthew 6:33)

I had memorised that verse as a motto: Serve God, minister to others, and trust Him for every necessity. Over the last two years God’s provision left us thrilled and awed.

How could God ignore my dilemma? I pestered heaven with repeated requests, but found no way to get socks. “Keep on asking, and you will receive.” (Matthew 7:7)

I went to a mothers’ meeting and when they asked for prayer requests, I said: “I need 48 pairs of socks.”

One lady smiled. “That’s easy. Go to the kabari walas—the second-hand dealers. They have lots.”

“Where are they?”

“In all the big cities. Here, you’ll find them in the lower bazaar.”

My mouth dropped open.

I didn’t go to the lower bazaar with its jumble of junky shops and roadside trolleys. I shopped in the upper bazaar with quality goods. How could I—a doctor’s wife from a wealthy country—buy things discarded by opportunity shops in the West?

But the women indicated this was my solution.

I couldn’t do it alone so asked my husband, “I know you don’t like shopping, but can you go with me? I need moral support.”

Together we walked past the smart stores and descended into a cobbled lane lined with dingy shops and rickety carts. Along the roadside, merchants squatted beside piles of second-hand goods spread on old sheets: tangled clothing, shoes and… socks.

My eyes darted around.

“Do you recognise anyone?” I whispered. “I don’t want to be seen.”

Ian scanned the crowd. “No one we know.”

I bent down and began sorting.

Too holey.

Wrong size.

Too thin.

Too bright.

The seller had dozens of pairs.

Keeping my face turned away from the street, I muttered, “Here I am—an Australian—buying socks that were meant for the very poor, items that rich countries have thrown out.”

Ian grinned.

“This is good for us. Good for our pride. You’re doing a good job.”

I selected several pairs and asked the price. The vendor wanted much less than businessmen charged for new socks.

I didn’t even bargain. There was money left over. I could buy more.

At the next stall, I squatted down again. Bonds socks. Hardly worn. Thick. Warm. Perfect.

I handed the vendor six pairs. He could have taken advantage of a foreigner and charged more, but he gave us a good price.

Glad I still hadn’t recognised anyone, we moved to the next sheet: too grotty and unwashed.

Ian bent over another stall. “Here’s a good pair.”

I examined them.

“Perfect—except for this little hole.” I laughed softly. “I wish I’d paid more attention when your mum taught me how to darn socks just after we married. Then, I listened politely but thought, why mend something when you can simply buy a new pair?”

I added, “These are too good to pass up. I will buy them and learn to darn.”

By the time we finished, I had enough socks for all three children, extras for the rest of us—and money left over.

I nearly danced all the way home.

“How good is this?” I said to Ian, “The kids will have warm feet. You helped me take courage and I can’t wait to go again.”

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine …

(Ephesians 3:20)

– Dorcas Denness