After removing socks and shoes, I settled into the chair for a pedicure.
Humbling to let others tend my feet.
While feet soaked in warm water, I reflected on the strangeness of this luxury on Maundy Thursday.
What was I doing?
While Alexi trimmed nails and massaged aching feet, she asked, “Doing anything special?”
She knows “no nail polish” for me during long winters made for heavy socks and boots. Today I’d picked a color.
In response, I blurted out,”I’m doing this for Maundy Thursday service tonight since Father Patrick asked if I’d represent one of the twelve disciples and offer a foot for washing.”
Ironic to worry about the appearance of my feet for a service that’s so not about me.
Which led me to add,”You know, Alexi, who am I trying to fool? God invites us to come just as we are. No need to pretty up. God knows us.”
Neither of us laughed.
Last night, when Mother Susan knelt before me, washing, toweling dry my foot with freshly painted nails, I sensed the humility of Jesus in her and the hubris in me.
Once home, I reread the following from Frederick Buechner’s April 1st entry in Listening to Your Life:
“I say that feet are very religious too. She says that’s what you think. I say that if you want to know who are you, if you are more than academically interested in that particular mystery, you could do a lot worse that look to your feet for an answer…Thus, when you wake up in the morning called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”
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