Washing Feet

Saturday night I had a party - it was a spa type party, definitely not my normal social gathering. As you were playing outside we soaked our feet. Occasionally you'd sneak into the apartment and watch what we were doing, at one point you even sat and watch us. We were soaking our feet in tubs very similar to the ones wash basins we use at church. 

I never grew up with a thought of footwashing. The only time I saw this sacrament practiced was at very religious weddings, and even then it was always the groom washing the brides feet - and to me it seemed weird and even sexist. Before New Covenant I never knew the church still practiced foot washing as a spiritual discipline, so while we taught you about communion almost everyday I never mentioned the other. 

Sunday morning we came to church early to setup our preschool lesson. You ran up to me asking, "Momma can I wash your feet during worship? Can you wash my feet?" I quickly said yes, because honestly I didn't know what else to say. I went up to Pastor Jackie asking if it was okay to do that with a five year old, as honestly I didn't know if you even understood it. 

Were you wanting a spa party? Or did you understand that it was a spiritual act of worship?

Pastor Jackie responded saying, "It is better to catch faith than to teach faith." 

I made sure you understood it wasn't a spa party, and you did - but made sure I knew you wanted a spa party for your birthday. So we agreed we'd wash each others feet. 

To be honest I forgot as I was outside in the foyer greeting people, but you ran up and grabbed me asking "Momma when are we washing feet?" After communion I sat down and took your shoes off, and washed your feet - praying for you that God would strengthen you, drawing you into the light of His glory, and making you new. 

You then washed my feet, your little hands wiping my large feet with the wet paper towel, as I talked you through what to do.

See Adelaide, I've only had my feet washed once before, and I wept the whole time as Jenna Kraft washed away my dirt, her physical actions mirroring the Holy Spirit's actions in my soul. I had always been wary of it, yet you were free in your inquiry, and actions. I am humbled by you.

Whether you washed my feet to be like the grown ups at the spa party, or because you wanted to humbly act in relation with the Holy Spirit - it doesn't matter, you acted, believed, and trusted. 

It seemed God's providence to have us trust each other in that moment, as later on you would have an accident in the bathroom at church. You felt shame, and feared my anger - and rather than exploding like I fight, I felt compassion and your shame was able to be washed away. 

Dearest Adelaide thank you for washing my feet, and for allowing me to wash yours.