Shoes of LOVE

Today, I received a gift that humbled me in a way I can barely describe. There are moments in life that stop you completely, moments that make you pause, breathe deeply, and feel the presence of God so powerfully that words fall short. Today was one of those moments.

For the past two years, my Monday afternoons have been spent at Cheshire Home, a small school and orphanage for children living with disabilities. Those visits quickly became one of my favourite parts of the week. Every Monday, I’d walk through the gates and be greeted by a wave of laughter, music, and little arms reaching for hugs. We would spend the afternoon together, singing, dancing, telling Bible stories, and simply being present. No agenda. No rush. Just love, God’s love, poured out in the simplest of ways.

In Sierra Leone, disability is often misunderstood. It’s seen by some as a weakness, or, in the most heartbreaking cases, as a curse. Many families, already burdened by poverty and daily survival, are unable to care for their children physically or financially. Some are abandoned. Some are sent away. It’s a painful truth that cuts deep every time I think about it.

And yet, inside the walls of Cheshire Home, you find something extraordinary. You find joy. You find laughter. You find resilience wrapped in tiny hands and bright eyes that radiate hope.

Among these beautiful souls is a little girl who has captured my heart, Jane Cheshire. Jane was born with cerebral palsy, a lifelong disorder that affects her movement, balance, and posture due to damage in the developing brain. It’s a condition that doesn’t just touch one part of life; it reshapes every part of it. For Jane, even the simplest tasks that most of us take for granted, like eating, drinking, dressing, or walking, require help. Her muscles don’t obey her mind the way she wishes they would. They stiffen and tremble, turning ordinary movement into an exhausting battle.

While her spirit is bright, her body often refuses to cooperate. Cerebral palsy has confined Jane to a wheelchair for life. She cannot stand or take a single step without support. Every transfer, every meal, every moment of daily living depends on the loving hands of someone else. 

Jane was abandoned as a baby, but Cheshire Home became her family. They gave her their name and, more importantly, gave her love. Despite everything she faces, Jane is light. She radiates a joy that can only come from a place deeply touched by God.

Since beginning my new role off-ship, I haven’t been able to visit as often as I’d like. But every time I return, Jane’s face lights up the moment she sees me. She throws herself out of her wheelchair, arms wide open, laughing as she pulls me into a hug that could melt the hardest of hearts. Those moments remind me what pure, unconditional love looks like.

Today was another Monday I wasn’t able to visit Cheshire or Jane and after a long day, one of those days where anxiety had crept in, where I felt small and overwhelmed, I came back to my room and found a gift waiting for me. A small package sat by my door. I opened it, and inside was a pair of sandals, carefully wrapped, with a handwritten note:

“I love you Ayla. I missing you so much and I want to see you now. Gift from Jane Cheshire.”

The moment I read her words, tears poured down my face. I sat there, holding those sandals, completely undone.

Jane, a child who has been given so little by the world, a child who cannot talk or walk, who has no parents, who depends on others for her every need, gave me a gift. A gift that, to her, was something precious. She gave me shoes even though her shoes have holes. 

She gave me love.

Those sandals are more than just shoes. They are shoes of love, a sacred reminder of what it means to give from the heart. They are a sermon without words, a testimony of God’s grace spoken through the hands of a little girl who has every reason to withhold but instead chooses to give.

As I held them, I thought about Jesus washing the feet of His disciples, an act of humility and love so deep that it transcends logic. Jane’s gift felt like that. A holy moment. God’s love, tangible and present, shining through the most unexpected place.

In a world that so often values what is big and impressive, Jane reminded me of what truly matters, a heart that gives freely, even when it has nothing left to give.

These shoes will never be just shoes. They are a symbol of grace, humility, and the kind of love that reflects the very heart of God.

Even in the hardest and darkest places, there is beauty. There is kindness. There is hope.
And sometimes, it comes in the form of a pair of sandals from a little girl named Jane.