oh, my darling.
i haven't held your feet in my hands in years.
our little daughter suggested this...this foot-washing...this loving and cleaning and rubbing of your feet...
so we made a little play out of it and did a 'foot-spa' for daddy.
and i hold these precious feet in my hands, looking hard at the callouses, the lines, the veins, the toenails that have thickened and broken as you've aged.
i know where these feet have been.
they have been on the mountains, proclaiming good news.
they have spent months out of the year on airplanes.
they have ridden motorcycles in the traffic for hours to save time and gas money as you go back and forth to the church.
they've walked and walked and walked, as you push yourself to exercise and stay healthy for the sake of your family and your little girl.
these feet have not always had good footwear. your shoes were too small when you were young, and so there are crooked places where the growing bones were forced to compromise in a cramped space.
there are cracks between your toes, and you're surprised when i say, 'sweetheart, you've got athlete's foot!'
we treat it with a warm vinegar soak, then we let these precious feet linger in a bubble bath.
then we gently pat them dry, girlie's little hands so gentle, gentle with you...
and rub on the best lotion we have- over the veins, right up to your knees, over the strong long muscles of your lean legs.
our daddy's feet. we washed them. because we love him.
"how beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news..."