Apparently some people have a thing about feet. They don’t like them, think them somehow offensive. In some cultures, to show someone the sole of your shoe is considered the worst possible insult.
I don’t mind them. Especially this pair I’m holding in my hands just now.
The big toes have always turned upward a little eccentrically and one of them works better than the other at the moment but that’s ok, we’re working on it.
These cute size fours tramped for miles of moonlight rambles back in High School days. They brought my Sweetheart up the aisle to say ‘I do’. These feet accompanied mine, times when we travelled the world and stayed faithful on days we had to stand our ground.
We’re not sure how long they can stand now or, if they can walk, how far, but it’s alright. We’ll get where we need to go.
Right now these feet need a pedicure. Since she took ill some things are hard to manage. Her right hand you see…so it’s another first. After nearly forty years, I’m trimming her toenails. Kneeling on the floor, glasses on, concentrating to be gentle, glad perhaps that she can’t see my eyes filling.
It’s like that with the emotion. The tears come on you unexpectedly, you can’t help it. You’re sailing along, being practical, getting on with things when for no apparent reason, or maybe for a thousand, something in you breaks and they flow.
It’s alright, I don’t mind. Better men than me have wept and also ministered to feet! John says bathing theirs was a special way Jesus once showed love to His friends. Unglamorous but somehow very special, a strange privilege to show love in a new way. I think I’m beginning to understand, at least some of it.
As my tears fall on these precious, beloved feet I’m also reminded of a woman who had lived a sinful life who wet Jesus’ feet with hers. He said her sins were many but forgiven and tied this to the devotion she showed.
I’m no hero. I’m just one more person who’s been forgiven a lot.
I’m just grateful for this beautiful chance to show a little love.
I don’t mind them. Especially this pair I’m holding in my hands just now.
The big toes have always turned upward a little eccentrically and one of them works better than the other at the moment but that’s ok, we’re working on it.
These cute size fours tramped for miles of moonlight rambles back in High School days. They brought my Sweetheart up the aisle to say ‘I do’. These feet accompanied mine, times when we travelled the world and stayed faithful on days we had to stand our ground.
We’re not sure how long they can stand now or, if they can walk, how far, but it’s alright. We’ll get where we need to go.
Right now these feet need a pedicure. Since she took ill some things are hard to manage. Her right hand you see…so it’s another first. After nearly forty years, I’m trimming her toenails. Kneeling on the floor, glasses on, concentrating to be gentle, glad perhaps that she can’t see my eyes filling.
It’s like that with the emotion. The tears come on you unexpectedly, you can’t help it. You’re sailing along, being practical, getting on with things when for no apparent reason, or maybe for a thousand, something in you breaks and they flow.
It’s alright, I don’t mind. Better men than me have wept and also ministered to feet! John says bathing theirs was a special way Jesus once showed love to His friends. Unglamorous but somehow very special, a strange privilege to show love in a new way. I think I’m beginning to understand, at least some of it.
As my tears fall on these precious, beloved feet I’m also reminded of a woman who had lived a sinful life who wet Jesus’ feet with hers. He said her sins were many but forgiven and tied this to the devotion she showed.
I’m no hero. I’m just one more person who’s been forgiven a lot.
I’m just grateful for this beautiful chance to show a little love.
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