Sean and Gavin step inside, their breath misting slightly in the chill. With practiced ease, they pull off their boots, revealing neat black socks, and reach for their vestments hanging on polished hooks. The quiet is broken as Eli and Dameon enter, carrying themselves with a mixture of curiosity and nervous excitement.
"These shoes are really hurting my feet," Dameon admits, shifting from one foot to the other in his stiff black dress shoes.
Sean offers a reassuring smile, gesturing toward the growing pile of shoes and boots. "You can leave your shoes next to ours," he says, inviting them to join in the quiet tradition.
"Are we supposed to take off our shoes?" Eli asks, unsure.
Gavin nods, his tone patient but firm. "Since some servers started showing up with boots and tennis shoes, Father decided everyone should serve in socks. That way, no one stands out, and we all start from the same place."
"When we serve in our socks, we are all equal," Sean adds, his voice gentle.
Dameon looks relieved as he places his shoes beside the others. "In my old church, we always had to wear dress shoes. I love altar serving, but I hate wearing dress shoes. This serving in socks is so much better," he confides, a smile breaking across his face.
The Mass begins, and the servers move with newfound comfort. Their focus sharpens, no longer distracted by aching feet or ill-fitting shoes. The simple act of serving in socks becomes a symbol of humility and equality, binding them together in purpose.
Eli and Dameon exchange looks, each realizing how much more connected they felt to the service—and to each other—without the distraction of discomfort. Their reverence deepens, and they leave the church with a quiet sense of pride, knowing that sometimes, the simplest traditions hold the greatest meaning.
