FOOT  WASHING 

His wife, Janice, finally asked him, “Every night – well almost every night - after supper you soak your dad’s feet in that tan plastic bucket – during the evening news. Then you dry them with a towel. Nice. A question that hit me is this:  Is there a story behind all this?”

This triggered in Jack a memory. It was the night he asked Janice, “What would it be like if we invited my dad to move in with us?”

His mom had died. His dad was all alone. Jack and Janice’s kids had moved out. One was still in college. The other 4 kids had finished college – were working – and two were married.

So to the question about asking dad if he wanted to move in with them – Janice said, “Great! It will give you and our 3 grandkids a wonderful experience to be with each other even more.” 

Janice loved her grandkids – day caring for them 4 days a week – and dad was still rather healthy – and he could help take the kids to the park or the zoo or what have you.

Jack, her husband, was still working. He was a mechanic  - at the local school bus garage.

After asking that first question, Janice said, “I know all that, but why do you have that great smile on your face as you put your dad’s feet into the tan plastic bucket and pour just the right temperature hot water on his feet?”

“Janice,” Jack said, “sometimes when I was a kid, my dad would take me over at least two nights a week to see grandpa and grandma – and grandpa would always be soaking his feet when we were there. Grandpa’s feet had gone bad early. So I would see my dad getting hot water for his father’s feet – and pouring in Epsom Salts. My dad’s dad had been a cop and was on his feet all day – walking his beat.  Nowadays, most cops are in patrol cars. Well,  his feet hurt – often hurt.”

“Oh,” said Janice. “Nice.”

“So,” Jack continued…. “I guess with dad living with us and getting him hot water and Epsom Salts,  I’m just keeping up an old family tradition.”

Then he said, “I always liked the silky feel of Epsom Salts in hot water. I love to see my dad’s face when I dry off his feet and rub his toes dry.”

Janice and Jack were quiet for a while.

Then Jack continued. “As I looked back on my dad – I realized all he did for the 5 of us when we were growing up. So the least I could do for him was to help him soak his feet.”

“And ooops,” Jack said, “I better tell you the best reason. My dad once told me that he was doing his father’s feet one evening. It was Good Friday. We were all at Mass for Holy Thursday the day before. My dad said,  ‘This is just what Jesus did at the Last Supper to his disciples. He talked a lot about love at the Last Supper – but washing feet was love without words.’”

Janice was glad she asked Jack – because he was a man of few words. He was mostly about doing.

Then Jack continued. “My dad had said that it was Mary Magdalen and then at another time some other lady who washed and dried, and then anointed Jesus’ feet." 

Jack paused and then said, "My dad added, 'So I guess at the last supper Jesus washed his disciples’ feet and then dried them, because he had seen it done. That’s love. That’s service and I found out it does work.' So Janice that’s basically the story why doing my father's feet puts a smile on my face.”

Quiet.

“And Janice, do you want me to wash your feet?”

“Nope, but I’d love you to wash the dishes. They're in the sink and I’m dead tired right now and I need resurrection.”

“Gladly,” said Jim. “Gladly. And by the way, I saw some nice bread in the bread box – and there’s some great wine in the cabinet over there. How about two pieces of bread – some cheese – or some peanut butter - and some wine.”