Why You Might Want to Round Up Some Dirty Feet Today!
I hear giggles coming from behind the bathroom door, and I lean in close to listen.
Water runs, cupboard doors thump, and little voices chatter sing-song.
Curiosity piqued, I crack open the door and peek soundless through the slit.
They don’t even look up, so immersed in the moment they are.
He is perched on porcelain and she is on bent knee, her slender fingers rubbing his pale feet with tender strokes.
As I watch my littlest ones, I remember those wise words spoken by a sweet widow in a parking lot a decade ago….
She’d caught me after church on one of those days when my eyes were leaking discouragement and fatigue.
She’d caught me after church on one of those days when my eyes were leaking discouragement and fatigue.
She’d wrapped her hands around my sagging shoulders, that golden-aged mother of five, and she’d patted the diaper bag drooping heavy over my arm.
She’d held me long in that hug, rubbing my back like a mama soothes a desolate child, and had laughed at my toddler jumping in a mud puddle next to our mini-van.
She’d smiled at his dirty flip-flops, his brown-splattered feet; then looked straight into my watery eyes and exhaled a poignant sigh.
“Motherhood is a daily invitation to wash some feet.”
“Motherhood is a daily invitation to wash some feet.”
I’d nodded, failing to find comfort in those words, but grateful for the strength of her easy embrace…. The feet in the bathroom are splashing and wiggling. And I still my soul to savor the sight.
My little girl bends low to test the water with her slender fingers before she dunks her brother’s toes in the basin.
My little girl bends low to test the water with her slender fingers before she dunks her brother’s toes in the basin.
And though I hadn’t understood it in the parking lot years ago, I know it now without a doubt:
A mother points most clearly to Christ when she picks up her towel and stoops into His splendor.
And when we question our ability to raise up another generation of Christ-followers, when we realize we’ll never be enough and we waffle in the shadow of our flaws, we must remember this- we don’t need to be perfect to wash some feet.
What our children need most isn’t a mom who stands tall with all the answers, but a mom who shrinks small in the shadow of God’s glory.
I didn’t find that in all those books I read on discipline techniques and sleep strategies, on organizing a household and raising world changers.
I didn’t hear about foot washing during MOPS meetings or at playgroup.
A mother points most clearly to Christ when she picks up her towel and stoops into His splendor.
And when we question our ability to raise up another generation of Christ-followers, when we realize we’ll never be enough and we waffle in the shadow of our flaws, we must remember this- we don’t need to be perfect to wash some feet.
What our children need most isn’t a mom who stands tall with all the answers, but a mom who shrinks small in the shadow of God’s glory.
I didn’t find that in all those books I read on discipline techniques and sleep strategies, on organizing a household and raising world changers.
I didn’t hear about foot washing during MOPS meetings or at playgroup.
But one night while I sat in the dark with a screaming baby and murmured prayers over his tiny head, I discovered it afresh in this book, and I remembered the sage widow’s words.
And slowly, as I sunk knee-deep into motherhood, as I held puke buckets and changed soiled sheets; as I drove carpools and peeled potatoes, I began to understand what that wise mama had meant.
Raising up kids in the Lord can only be done on bended knee.
Raising up kids in the Lord can only be done on bended knee.
Motherhood has no silver bullet, but there is always a basin just waiting for willing hands.
Magdalene plants her lips on Joshua’s wet toes, and my littlest boy laughs at his sister’s flagrant offering.
I think I’ll run faster now, he says, his heels splashing ripples in the water. Because my legs are all powered up with joy!
Maggie shakes droplets from her wet hands and stands in the puddle forming quiet on the bathroom flow.She raises her arms toward Heaven and waves her washrag like a victory flag.
“Me, too!” she declares, shimmying happy. “I think I’m powered up, too!”
She slaps the water in the foot bath one more time and giggles at the way the splash drizzles down her cheek, running zig-zag to her chin.
And through the crack in the bathroom door, I see it clearly– how a lifetime of washing feet could be an invitation to a lifetime of joy.
Counting still…
1835. Backpacks stuffed with Valentines.
1836. Parent teacher conferences, awed by the ways these teachers bring out the best in my children and dream big with them.
1837. A family “riddle dinner” for Valentine’s Day; a husband who is willing to grill us steaks in the cold.
1838. Brand new super hero underwear sitting on top of the folded laundry pile.
1839. Medicine for sick kids and a husband who can diagnose the problem from the comfort of our living room!
1840. Playing cards in our pjs on Friday morning.
1841. Teachers who promise to pray for my son as he heads out to Honduras.
1842. A heater that keeps running when the wind is whipping hard.
1843. Luke’s completed autobiography project- “Mom, I’ve had a great life so far!”
1844. The lost trumpet found.
1845. Maggie’s bossing her sisters around- proof that she’s on the mend and getting healthy again!
1846. The wilderness of motherhood—- driving me closer to my Savior’s heart.
Happily linking with Ann for multitude mondays, laura for playdates with God, Jen for soli deo gloria, The Better Mom, The Mom Initiative.
Counting still…
1835. Backpacks stuffed with Valentines.
1836. Parent teacher conferences, awed by the ways these teachers bring out the best in my children and dream big with them.
1837. A family “riddle dinner” for Valentine’s Day; a husband who is willing to grill us steaks in the cold.
1838. Brand new super hero underwear sitting on top of the folded laundry pile.
1839. Medicine for sick kids and a husband who can diagnose the problem from the comfort of our living room!
1840. Playing cards in our pjs on Friday morning.
1841. Teachers who promise to pray for my son as he heads out to Honduras.
1842. A heater that keeps running when the wind is whipping hard.
1843. Luke’s completed autobiography project- “Mom, I’ve had a great life so far!”
1844. The lost trumpet found.1845. Maggie’s bossing her sisters around- proof that she’s on the mend and getting healthy again!
1846. The wilderness of motherhood—- driving me closer to my Savior’s heart.
Happily linking with Ann for multitude mondays, laura for playdates with God, Jen for soli deo gloria, The Better Mom, The Mom Initiative.
Love this! Such wise and true words.
I love the honesty and the raw feeling of this post, friend. And what a precious moment between your children. What tenderness and compassion. You should be so proud! Bless you, as you serve. And thanks so much for linking with IP! e.
Hope you’ll add the “share” buttons to your posts (if you’re up for being shared). I would have hit the FB for sure on this one.
Thanks again.
Profound and moving. Thank you so much for sharing.
Yes, God is able to bring back memories? Through our children. I love the nice pictures. Your blog gives me perspective. And a smile on face.
“What our children need most isn’t a mom who stands tall with all the answers, but a mom who shrinks small in the shadow of God’s glory. “
oh, those words are a balm to this mama, bent in half with fatigue tonight. thank you. you are right and i am feeling much smaller now.
The bended knee. Yes. That’s where it starts; that’s where it ends. And your kids are noticing. Praise God when they mimic us in the good things. Glad you caught the moment in pictures. Proof. 🙂
Really liked the “legs powered up with joy” 🙂
Alicia! This is SOOOOOOO dear! I hardly have words as tears fill my eyes. This serving heart seen through hands washing feet, without knowing anyone but God sees. They are doing as they’ve seen Mama do all these years…and the served and the server filled with JOY! What a beautiful celebration of love, friend.
Oh yes! Such wisdom from the lady at your church. I could have used it when I was a new mom:) And this, “What our children need most isn’t a mom who stands tall with all the answers, but a mom who shrinks small in the shadow of God’s glory” So true! Thank you!
This made me smile! Just last Thursday (Valentine’s Day) at church, I asked the kids what they might be able to do to show someone they loved them.
Maggie’s response: Give them a foot spa!
I guess she really meant it-
What a neat story! I love the reminder that we don’t have to be perfect to serve, to wash feet. And I love the encouragement that HE made it that way – HE knows I’m not a perfect mom & HE will redeem my broken attempts! Thanks. Glad I stopped by 🙂
Hugs,
Michelle
Love that last line! So true! 🙂