Faithful Servant
The sweet, clean scent of Ivory soap always makes me think of Mama, and my mind invariably flashes back to the past.
It was almost sundown that warm summer’s eve. I was six years old and Wanda was four. Living out in the country, Wanda and I very seldom wore shoes. We loved to run with bare feet all day long. We never noticed the rocks beneath us as we ran and played outdoors for hours.
As bedtime neared, Mama was insistent she must wash our feet, for she did not want her girls going to bed with dirty feet.
“But Mama, we already had our bath,” I would say.
“Yes, but you went back outside to play afterwards. What if something happens during the night and we have to rush out of the house, like to the hospital or something. I don’t want my girls running out with dirty feet. What would the neighbors think?”
She winked at me and Wanda, and we both giggled.
I stood on the commode in our small half bath next to our bedroom. Standing there wearing only my underwear, I put one foot at a time into the warm, sudsy water Mama had prepared. I watched her hands as she gently turned the Ivory soap over and over in the washcloth until it had just enough soap on it to suit her. She gently took my foot in her hand and washed all the way up to my knee to be sure all the dirt was gone.
After she washed the second foot, she let the dirty water run out and filled the sink again with warm, clean water. She squeezed the washcloth as she cleaned each foot again, and then took the soft hand towel to dry them.
Next it was Wanda’s turn, and Mama lifted her on the commode and giggled with her as she washed her little feet.
By this time, both of us were beginning to get sleepy eyes. She gently lifted us from the bathroom, helped us into our pretty pajamas, and softly tucked us into bed with a prayer and a kiss. Mama knelt by our beds beside us as we folded our hands in prayer and recited together:
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray Thee Lord my soul to keep
Angels watch me through the night
And wake me in the morning light
If I should die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
(The above is an excerpt from my upcoming memoir, The Glider.)
Years later I read in John 13 about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. In the English Standard Version, the commentary explains this verse like this: No one loves us like Jesus, and nothing will ever separate us from his love (Romans 8:31-39). His compelling love propels us into faithful service (2 Corinthians 5:14). Jesus’ expression of washing the disciples’ feet was an expression of a servant’s love.
My dear mother’s love was that of a servant’s heart. She didn’t have to wash our feet. I’m sure she was tired at the end of her day. We could have gone to bed with dirty little feet. But that was not what this mother wanted for her newly adopted little girls. We were a gift from God to her.
She treasured her time with us, even bedtime. She used that special time to sacrificially show her love. We didn’t realize it then, but she was teaching us how to love God, to make prayer time an important part of our lives and know that we could trust Him for our future.
My little sister and I crawled into bed together, our fingers intertwined for security, and had sweet dreams because of her caring spirit and act of love to us. The memory of a mother’s sacrificial love will be etched in my mind as long as I live, and that legacy will be passed on to my granddaughters.
Our story had a happy ending. Thankfully, we were rescued from our abusive first home and, after bouncing from foster home to foster home, found our forever home in a loving adoptive family. Not all children are so lucky. It is my deep hope that The Glider helps raise awareness and change that so all children live in a loving home.
