Called to Wash Feet

Recently I became involved in a couple of discussions regarding “foot-washing.”  I had seen a comment that “no one feels called to wash dirty feet.”  My instinctive reaction was that the statement was incorrect.  Now, having considered it for a couple of weeks, I still think it is false, whether taken literally or metaphorically.

As a nurse, and a mother, I have washed a lot of dirty feet.  I have never actually taken part in foot-washing as a form of worship in a church service, but I have been present as an on-looker.  In that context, I understand it to be representative of humility and the act of a servant.  However, I just see it as something that needs to be done or should be done, and so I would cheerfully do it anytime, anywhere, for anyone.  I don’t know if this exposes a flaw in myself or a strength.  Am I refusing to be “humbled” by such an act, or is my call to service so strong that such an act is totally natural?

I think that my eight year-old granddaughter has an innate call to service.  One evening while I was visiting her family, my daughter called me into the bedroom to see an outfit she had recently purchased.  My daughter’s husband was lying on the bed with his feet hanging over the edge, and his sweet little girl was kneeling on the floor rubbing lotion on his feet.  This act seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to her.  During a later visit, when my daughter had just had surgery and wasn’t coming down to the dining room for meals yet, this granddaughter appeared in the kitchen and offered to take her mother’s meal up to her.  There was nothing affected in these actions, no sign that she expected anyone to notice her acts of service.  They came as a natural outgrowth of who she is as a person.  She delighted in playing the servant’s role.

I think many people who are nurses….or at least, who were nurses in my era…delight in the comfort foot-washing brings.  An important part of the bed bath used to be actually putting the person’s feet in a basin of water.  A towel was spread out at the foot of the bed, a basin of warm water was put on the towel, and the person’s lower leg and foot were supported on the nurse’s arm while the foot was carefully lowered into the basin.  Many, many times this would result in the patient saying, “Oh, that feels so good.”  Why would one not feel pleasure in doing something that brought comfort to another?  Why would one not feel that foot-washing was a calling?

Foot-washing is only the beginning of what nurses do on a daily basis.  They hold the basin while someone vomits.  They struggle to undress the drunk who has been in a car accident and needs to be helped into the bed.  They clean up the person who can no longer control his or her bowels.  I have never looked on any of this as demeaning, but rather as what I was called and empowered to do.

I recognize that not all of us are called to wash feet in a literal sense, but some of us are.  I suspect that in a metaphoric sense, we all have such a calling.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men….It is the Lord Christ you are serving.  Colossians 3:23-24

A Terrifying Prospect

I am terrified that we as a nation are going to get what we deserve…..either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump.

We seem to have reached a point where there is no possibility of someone who combines common sense and integrity rising to enough prominence to be elected. 

We are enthralled with exhibitionists like the Kardashians, who aspire to “breaking the internet.”  We watch “reality” TV which is not “real” at all.  Can we be trusted to elect a “real” president?

We are so anxious for women to be self-determining, that we will sweep under the table Planned Parenthood’s provision of fetal body parts, perhaps for profit, perhaps not, but either way….revolting.   What has happened to the dignity of human life?

We are so anxious to prove that we are open-minded and politically correct, that we can’t stand up for what is right.  Then ironically, we admire Donald Trump brazenly taking a stand that is not just politically incorrect, but crass and boorish.  Are we incapable of seeing how preposterous this is?

We have reached a point where honesty is only valued if it enhances our agenda.  We admire people who get ahead through deception.  It’s OK if they can get away with it….just don’t get caught.  Do we enjoy being lied to?

We, as a society, need to re-examine our values.  For whom are we cheering?  Whose ideas are influencing us?  What are we reading?  What are we watching?  To what are we listening?  What on earth are we doing?

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”  (Edmund Burke)

Thankfully, the election is still over a year away.  There is still time for reason to prevail.  Time for a candidate to emerge who wishes to serve his/her country instead of him/herself.  Someone who can represent us on the world stage with both dignity and strength.

I have no idea, at this point, who that might be.  I pray that there will be such a choice on the ballot, and that we will elect that person.  At the same time, I understand that God is sovereign.  We may end up with someone “awful,” because it fits into the divine “big picture,” of which we are currently ignorant.

And…God often lets us have what we deserve.

The Importance of Answering the Question

Recently I went into Home Depot to pick up some deck paint.  As my 5 gallon container was being mixed, a lady and boy I assumed to be her son entered the area.  The boy was sitting in the child seat in the cart, although I judged him too old to be sitting in the cart, and wondered why he was there.  Did he have a tendency to wander off?  Was he a “problem child” of some sort?

The boy immediately noticed the paint being shaken.  “Look at that machine!  What is it doing?”

I expected the mother to give him a reasonable answer.  Instead she snapped at him, “Don’t pay any attention to that!” 

I was three or four steps away from the boy.  I caught his eye and smiled at him.  The mother was turned away looking at color samples.

My paint continued to shake, and I continued to be concerned about the mother’s response to her child.  Did he spend his entire day asking questions?  Was she sick of answering?

Eventually, I couldn’t help myself.  I took two steps closer to the boy, and said, “The machine is shaking up my paint in order to mix it.  If someone had to stir the color in by hand, they would be stirring all afternoon to get it mixed properly.  The machine can do it much more quickly.”

“Wow,” he said, “that machine is really interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

The mother ignored me and the boy, for which I was grateful.  I had wondered, if she would be angry that I had spoken to her son.  I did make sure not to get too close and invade his personal space.

Why would a mother be unwilling to answer her kid’s questions….even if he asked thousands of them.  Isn’t that how kids learn?

About 40 years ago, a friend was visiting at our home.  We sat in the living room talking while my first daughter played on the floor.  At one point, my daughter pointed at something under my chair and asked what it was.  I more or less stood on my head to see what she was pointing at and answer her questions.  My friend said, “That is why your kids are so smart, you know….you take the time to answer their questions.”

It has never occurred to me NOT to answer my children’s questions!  It isn’t just a matter of satisfying their curiosity and “making them smart.”  It is a way of respecting their dignity as a person, and that is one of the most important things a parent can do.

Gravesite Thoughts

Usually we visit family graves around Memorial Day…or certainly by mid-June…and plant flowers around the tombstones.  It has been traditional, because it was Bill’s Dad’s habit, and as he aged and could not do this alone, we were drawn into it.  But this year…..I don’t know what happened, but it is mid-July and the task was not done until today, and not done to the extent of previous years.

Several generations of Bill’s Dad’s side of the family are buried in a cemetery in Antwerp, New York. Since no longer having his own greenhouses, Bill’s Dad would order geraniums from a local nursery.  We would load up the car with the flowers, fertilizer, mulch, tools, and bottles of water, since there is no water source in that cemetery.  Later, we would go to the cemetery on the north side of Watertown, where Bill’s Mom’s side of the family is buried, and finally to the cemetery on the south side where my parents are buried.

Last year, Bill’s Dad passed away.  This year we did not get to Antwerp at all.  No flowers were ordered ahead, and by now, everything was picked over and scraggly looking.  We were so late planting that we ended up running around to FIVE different stores before we found flowers that were acceptable to Bill for his parents’ gravesite, my parents’ gravesite, and that of a family friend whose grave we always take care of.

Being in our 70s ourselves, this is quite a bit of effort, and I did considerable thinking while turning over the soil and trying to remove the roots of last year’s plants.

*This is an awful lot of work to do for people who don’t even know we are doing it.  I sure am glad my shoulder fracture is well healed.

*I tried to decrease the work by suggesting to Bill that instead of continuing to plant a big circle around the main tombstone where his parents are buried, we could just plant a row on either side.  Nope.  It had to be done the way his Dad had done it.

*No one is doing this for my grandparents’ graves which are a 3 hour car ride away.  This seems especially a shame, because my mother’s father so faithfully cared for the graves of his deceased family members.  He also absolutely loved flowers.

*The odds aren’t good that anyone will do this for Bill and me.  Oldest daughter is in a wheelchair and although, she likes to garden, getting into the right position to do the work in a cemetery probably won’t be possible.  Daughter #2 says she is eventually moving to a commune, so she’s probably out.  Daughter #3 lives very far away.  Although she likes to garden, she is not into traditions like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, so what are the odds she would think about planting gravesites?  #1 Son has declared that he is as sentimental as a brick, and he also lives on the other side of the country, so I’m not expecting anything from him in this department.

*So what to do with our mortal remains????  If we are cremated, we still have to figure out what to do with the ashes.

Eventually, I got distracted from these thoughts leaving my questions unanswered.  After planting the flowers in front of my parents’ tombstone, I poured on a healthy supply of water and to my amazement, scores of ants came scurrying out of the ground and crawled all over the stone.  There must be a huge ant colony either under the headstone or under the area where the flowers are planted, and watering flooded their home.

I noticed a wheelbarrow of sand just behind my parents’ headstone and wondered who had left it there and why.  Just as we were finishing up, I realized that there must be a burial about to take place.  A cemetery worker arrived and spread out a piece of artificial grass a couple of rows away.  Two young men in military uniforms arrived and were standing around obviously waiting.  We left before a hearse and procession appeared.  I suppose the sand was there for fill in the newly dug grave.

So, I am home now and wondering…

Will anyone notice that the usual geraniums are missing from the family graves in Antwerp?

Would Bill’s Dad be upset at the pitiful scraggly geraniums we planted over his grave?

With apologies to Christian Rossetti, who is dead and doesn’t know anyway….

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no scraggly geranium,

Nor brown and wilted pansy:

The ants that crawl above me,

With your watering can don’t wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

The Last Breath

The last breath will come

And one of us will go on alone.

Synchrony gone.

Unity shattered.

For decades we have sung,

Harmonizing our voices,

Breathing in unison,

Avoiding discord.

Hundreds of times, skating

We have coordinated limbs,

Responding to subtle motions

Of the other.

Thousands of times

We have kissed, caressed,

Making our physical bodies,

Into one flesh.

Myriads of times,

We have blended our minds,

Our thoughts, our purpose,

Toward a mutual goal.

But one future day,

The movement will stop,

The very fabric of life,

Will be painfully torn.

And with that last breath,

A question will hang

Unanswered in the air.

How does one live alone?

When the Foundations are Destroyed

When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do? Psalm 11:3

I absolutely understand why people who are gay and want to be married would feel that they are being discriminated against.   Given the attitudes in our society which are now prevalent, marriage would seem to be a “right.”  Homosexual conduct is no longer seen as SIN.  Although other innate biological inclinations, such as a tendency to violence, are not condoned, homosexual inclinations are no longer seen as deviance.

But…that is because over the past several decades some foundational truths have been destroyed.

*God may or may not even exist.  If He does exist, He may not be the Creator, so what He says about how we are made, doesn’t matter.

*The Bible is no longer accepted as the Word of God and an “owner’s manual” for how human beings and their society best function.  It has become an irrelevant book of myths

*God’s provision for sex as a means of pleasure, procreation, and a symbol of His love for “the Church” has been distorted beyond recognition.  One man and one woman united for a life-time is a joke.  Sex outside of the bonds of marriage has become the norm.  No one bats an eye at pregnancy out of wedlock, hook-ups, affairs, and bed-hopping.

As we, as a society, have exercised our right to ignore God, the Bible, and His intent for sex, we have destroyed foundations essential to our own well-being.  The foundations of our society are crumbling, but the media is clueless and celebrating.

Here is the problem for those of us who still believe in God and believe the Bible is relevant.  We have read Romans 1:18-32.  Some excerpts….

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.

They exchanged the truth of God for a lie and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator….because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts.  Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones.  In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another.

Since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done.

They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice.  They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless.

So…those of us who believe the Bible is God’s truth, see the Supreme Court’s approval of gay marriage as another step in the destruction of our society.  We are not celebrating.  We are saddened, but not really surprised.  According to Romans 1, this is the expected outcome when a society abandons God.  Our collective sin as a society has an impact on the lives of individuals.  No one can stand on a crumbling foundation.

There is only one hope for us.  Repentance and rebuilding on the only sure foundation which cannot crumble.

Each one should be careful how he builds.  For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.  I Corinthians 3:10-11

Of Dead Mice and Flawed Men

Decades ago, I was playing a game with a group of people, and I drew a card that instructed me to share something I feared.  I honestly couldn't think of anything I feared at the time, but I have been reminded many times since of my phobia.  I have a horrible fear of dead mice....not live ones....dead ones.  I can hold a pet mouse.  I can watch one run around outside...or even inside after the initial scream from being startled.  But, I totally freak out over dead mice.

Today, Bill and I were at our cottage cleaning up for the season.  I always put out D-Con in the fall.  As I cleaned the cottage today, I discovered every single D-Con package was empty.  I began to wonder where the mice had gone to die.  I wasn't noticing an odor anywhere....although they don't usually rot with the D-Con.  They just sort of shrivel up and don't smell.

Eventually, I came to the time that I was ready to mop, and I needed to change the sponge on the mop.  I was having trouble getting it off, so I opened the drawer with the tools.  Ugh!  It smelled like mousy-pee and there was an obvious nest with the back end and tail of a dead mouse sticking out of it.  I ran for my husband.

What, you may wonder, is the reason for this totally irrational aversion to dead mice?  

When I was a child, we lived in a house in the middle of an open field.  It wasn't unusual for a field mouse to find its way inside.  My Dad would set a trap and catch the mouse.  THEN...he would take the dead mouse by the tail and chase me around the house with it.  I have no idea why he thought this was funny.  He didn't seem to realize he was completely terrorizing me.  On one occasion he came up behind me, pulled open the back of the neck of my shirt and pretended he was going to drop the mouse into it.  I developed the habit of locking myself in the bathroom when he was about to empty the trap.  Once he even came to the bathroom door and said, "Honey, I got rid of it," but when I opened the door he was swinging it by the tail right at my face.  From then on, I would not unlock the bathroom door until my Mother came to the door and told me he had disposed of it.

My Dad was basically a nice man.  He was a Christian, and he didn't believe in lying.  How he could have excluded this game of his from his normal standard of conduct, I do NOT know.  He had some other "games" I found unpleasant which he seemed to believe were funny.  He also had some "pet names" for me that were ego-bruising.  I suppose this behavior had something to do with his own father's conduct.

The  point is, even though this has had a lasting effect that I can't seem to get over, I do have to forgive him for it.  He was flawed, but then, so am I.  Every one of us lacks insight in some area of our life.  There are, for each of us, some areas in which our perception just doesn't match that of the rest of the world, or perhaps, that of one person who is harmed by our actions.

As Christians, we are recipients of the grace of God in our lives.  He forgives our sins...and that includes the personality quirks that we spend a life-time struggling against.  We have an obligation to forgive others...even before they ask for our forgiveness...even if they never ask for our forgiveness,   We have an obligation to extend grace to other flawed men and women.