Once upon a time, there was an old shoemaker who worked and lived in a small shop in a tiny village. The shoemaker was known throughout the town as a kind and generous man. He made a point to help the hungry and needy as he came upon them, believing with his whole heart that they crossed his path for a reason.
After a series of unfortunate events, the shoemaker found himself in a time of need. He had become very poor and barely had enough money to feed himself or his wife. All he had left in his possession was enough leather to make one final pair of shoes.
If he couldn’t sell the shoes, he and his wife would lose the shop and live on the streets. And with winter fast approaching, he worried how they would survive.
The shoemaker was so exhausted from worry, he decided to go to bed early. He cut the leather into pieces, laid the pieces out on his worktable, and planned to make the shoes first thing in the morning.
The following day, the shoemaker awoke early, eager to get started on the shoes. To his amazement, a pair of perfectly sewn leather shoes was waiting for him on his worktable. Someone else had made the shoes for him!
The shoemaker examined every inch of the shoes. Each piece of leather had been sewn together flawlessly. They were far better than the shoes he made—perhaps the nicest pair he had ever seen.
“Honey, come look at this!” he called to his wife.
“What a lovely pair of shoes you’ve made,” she said sweetly.
“But I didn’t make them,” the shoemaker said. “I left the pieces on the table last night and then woke this morning to find they had been made without me.”
“You silly old fool,” his wife said and pinched his cheek. “It’ll take more than that to trick me.”
The shoemaker didn’t press the matter any further. Had the positions been reversed, he probably wouldn’t have believed it either. The shoes were both a miracle and a mystery. He just wished he had someplace to direct his gratitude.
He placed the leather shoes in the window of his store, and they caught the attention of the first man who walked past. The man was so attracted to the shoes, he went inside to inquire about purchasing them.
“How on earth did you make such a beautiful pair of shoes?” the man asked. “I’ve never seen stitching that fine in my life!”
“I wish I knew,” the shoemaker said with a shrug.
“I appreciate a man who keeps his business secrets to himself,” the man said. “Name your price. I simply must have them.”
The man gave the shoemaker enough money to live off for another week and buy enough leather to make two new pairs of shoes.
Not expecting the miracle to happen twice, the shoemaker cut the leather into the pieces he needed and went to work on them. His old hands weren’t what they used to be and his joints ached with arthritis. So the shoemaker went to bed and planned on coming back to the project in the morning.
The next day, the shoemaker walked into his shop only to find that another mysterious miracle had occurred while he slept. Two pairs of impeccably sewn leather shoes had been put together without him.
“Honey, come look at this!” the shoemaker called to his wife.
“What lovely pairs of shoes,” she said. “They’re just as nice as the pair you made before.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” the shoemaker said. “I didn’t make these shoes, and I certainly didn’t make the pair from the night before!”
His wife knew exactly how long it took her husband to make a single pair of shoes. It was unlikely he could make one pair overnight, let alone two.
“Just because you’re an old dog doesn’t mean you can’t learn new tricks,” she convinced herself. “Now stop teasing me with this foolishness or I’ll take you to see a doctor.”
“Trust me, if we could afford a doctor, I would have taken myself already,” the shoemaker said.
He placed the new shoes in his store window, and both pairs sold for even better prices than the day before. The shoemaker had enough money to eat for another week and enough left over to buy leather for four pairs of shoes.
Things took such a turn for the better, the shoemaker was starting to feel guilty. He still had no clue who or what had been helping him.
That night he cut the leather into pieces to make four pairs of shoes. Business was so great that there was no rush to finish them, so the shoemaker went to bed as soon as he finished dinner.
You’d have thought the old man would be used to it by now, but the next morning he was just as amazed as ever to find four new pairs of shoes on his worktable.
“Honey, come see this!” the shoemaker said to his wife. “And this time you’ll have to believe me!”
Now, the shoemaker’s wife had gone to bed much later than her husband the previous night. She had seen the leather pieces on the table with her own eyes and knew the shoemaker couldn’t have made the shoes himself.
“Well, bless my soul,” his wife said. “Who could have done this?”
“I don’t know, but we must find out so I can thank them,” the shoemaker said.
Once the new shoes were sold, the shoemaker purchased enough leather to make eight pairs of shoes. That night, he cut the leather into pieces and laid them out on his worktable. He and his wife hid in the doorway and anxiously waited for the help to arrive.
They waited and waited, but nothing happened.
“Perhaps they’ve taken the night off,” the shoemaker suggested.
Just then, the leather pieces began moving on their own at the worktable. It was as if two invisible hands were sewing the shoes together.
“It’s a spirit!” the shoemaker whispered to his wife.
“The shoes aren’t being constructed by a spirit; they’re being made by elves!” his wife said. “Your eyes aren’t what they used to be. Here, take my glasses and see for yourself.”
The shoemaker’s wife handed her husband her glasses. There were two elves making the shoes at his worktable, and they were so small, he couldn’t see them from the doorway. Each elf did the work of one human hand using its entire body, all while completely naked.