Washing Feet

Last night, as usual, Eli chose his picture Bible for his bedtime story. We read about Jesus washing his disciples’ feet as a servant would. He told them, “If I, your Lord and Master, have served you, you should do the same for one another.”

Well, I happened to know that we were going to have a foot-washing service in church this morning. Kendall would not be there, so I would have the boys with me. I explained that we still wash each other’s feet sometimes to remember how Jesus serves and helps us and to remember that we want to serve and help each other. I told them that if they would like, we could wash each other’s feet at church in the morning.

So this morning at the end of our church service there was an open time for people to wash someone else’s feet. Eli and Evan agreed that we would all wash each other’s feet. So we sat down at a warm basin of water. First we washed Eli’s feet, tickling him only a little. Then the boys washed my feet and dried them for me. Then Eli and I washed Evan’s feet with Eli’s true motive appearing to be tickling.

This foot-washing wasn’t the practiced, refined washing, the gentle patting dry, or the formal hug to seal everything that I’ve experienced in these services before. It was a bit messier. Water dripped on the floor and people, a child’s face unreservedly showed the pleasure of the warm water, the towels were all disheveled, and people were tickled and had water spritzed at their faces.

You know, I really get tired of being on my own with the boys. Kendall’s work schedule has proven to be more grueling than we expected. I get so tired of taking the boys to church by myself and of serving meals by myself and of entertaining them by myself and of refereeing and disciplining them by myself. I wash their feet all the time. I wash their whole bodies. I comb their hair. I wipe their bottoms. I tie their shoes. I clean their crumbs off the floor. I clean their pee off the toilet. I read them stories. I tuck them in bed. I tuck them in bed again. And again. I serve them all the time. Isn’t that just what parents do?

But I complain so much. In my heart and out loud. I’m not ignoring the fact that parenting is hard work or that Kendall’s work schedule takes its toll on all of us. I think it’s okay to feel tired sometimes. It’s okay to need a break. It’s okay to vent frustration to someone.

I want to see my service to my sons differently than I so often tend to. It’s true- I have to serve them. I have no real choice. But I also want to grow in serving them out of love. I want to be aware of the ways that Jesus serves me and then, in gratitude, to turn around and serve Eli and Evan. I am so thankful for these two little blessings.

And by the way, soon after we returned to our seats this morning, the time was up on how long these two little blessings could sit still. While the atmosphere was quite relaxed, it was still relatively quiet. I let the boys play around me, not paying too much attention to what they were up to. I was soon reminded of their presence, however, when I heard lots of giggling and a loud greeting from under our chairs: “Hello, Mr. Butt!”