Feet Washing

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

John 13:15

Holy Thursday is one of my favorite liturgies to attend.  I didn't grow up attending this Mass.  In fact, it wasn't until I was an adult and a priest asked me to be a reader for Holy Thursday that I attended.  I was so moved to my core and haven't missed a Holy Thursday liturgy since then.

In John's gospel, he recounts how during the Last Supper Jesus washed the disciples' feet.  At that time, this would have been a job for the lowliest of servants.  However, Jesus does this and tells his disciples that not only can they not follow him if they do not allow him to wash their feet, but that this is an example for them of how to live.  To serve.  To serve all.

During Holy Thursday's liturgy, the priest takes off his chasuble and washes the feet of 12 people.  Often, the priest will kiss the feet of the person upon completion of the washing.  It is beautiful.  It is symbolic.  It is a reminder to the priest and to all of us of what we are called to do as a follower of Jesus.

This particular Holy Thursday, the foot washing ritual hit my heart particularly hard.  I watched our parish priest pour water over the feet, gently clean them, dry them, and kiss them.  And I saw my father. 

Two years ago, my mom suffered a minor stroke.  She has some deficits.  Not as many as some people, but definitely more than others.  My father has filled the role over these last two years as her caretaker.  

When I am at my folk's house, I see my dad prepare meals for my mom.  At breakfast, he gets her cereal or toast ready and brings it to her.  At lunch, he brings over a paper plate with a sandwich, a cookie (or two), and a glass of milk.  Dinner is prepared and brought over to the table.  

Because of some health issues, my mom has to wear very tight nylon stockings.  It takes quite an effort for my dad to get these on my mom.  She is quiet even though it is painful.  And he is kind and patient and as gentle as possible as he works to get the stockings on her.

He makes her laugh.  Throughout the tough moments of the day, he tells jokes or does silly things to bring a smile to her face.  She still has tough days and moments of tears, but he can make her laugh like no one else can.  I am grateful that their days have many moments of laughter woven through the many moments of challenges.

My mom hates not being able to do things for herself and her family that she could do before the stroke.  My father has stepped into the role of caretaker without complaining even though he has some health issues himself.

Meals and stockings and laughter.  Just three small details of the many things that my dad now does on a daily basis to help my mom.  He serves.

Jesus washed the disciples' feet.  

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

The priest washed the parishioner's feet.

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

Every day, I see my father following Jesus' example with humility and grace.  

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

My mom's stroke has changed much of how we live.  More so for them, of course, but in different ways for their children and grandchildren as well.  However, it has also brought many opportunities to grow in faith and love.  My siblings and I have been given a grace through all of this.  We are witnesses of God's love being manifested through my parents in a way that it didn't before.

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

I pray that I can live out this example every day as beautifully as I see it lived out every time I am around my parents. 

  

Where are You?

Growing up, this time of year was magical to me. The Advent wreath, the Christmas tree, the decorations, the Advent calendar, the ornaments, the smell of pine, the lights.  Baking, shopping, singing, watching Christmas movies. Snuggling in bed on Christmas Eve while butterflies were dancing in my heart making sleep nearly impossible.  I close my eyes and I can go right back to how I felt at that time.

On Christmas morn I used to wake bright and early with my siblings. Much, much earlier than my parents. We would whisper and talk and watch the clock to see when it would be ok to go down to wake our parents. We would sneak down the stairs to use the bathroom and peek into the family room to see if the stockings were full and the presents were under the tree. When the time came, we would run down the stairs, get our parents up and race to.... our nativity scene. We wanted to see if baby Jesus had come. Then we would tear over to the tree and into our presents.

As I've grown older, my love for this time of year is still there, but it isn't quite the same. Family relationships have changed - some growing stronger, others struggling. The world has picked up its pace. Stores start packing Christmas items on their shelves in October. Radio stations are playing Christmas music before Halloween! My nuclear family has changed: a husband, in-laws, and children are added to the mix. Am I able to keep up? Am I passing down the love and meaning of this season to my children?

Over the last few years I've found myself asking more and more, "Where are you?" Where are you, Jesus? Where are you, Christmas? It takes longer for the spirit of the season to fill my heart and lift me up. It takes longer for the lightness and laughter to penetrate the darkness. However, it does always seem to win out.

Maybe that is a good thing. The weeks before Christmas are a time of waiting, of preparation, of darkness. Christ, the true Light, comes on Christmas morn to fill our hearts with hope, with love.

I reflect on those Christmases of my childhood and they bring me great joy. My prayer is that my children will look back and have warm and happy memories of this time of year. I pray that my children will feel the wonder and awe that this season brings. I pray that our traditions remind them of the love we have for each other.

In the morning as I do my prayers I look over at the nativity scene waiting for Jesus to arrive on Christmas morn. Where are you, Jesus? Where are you, Christmas? Fill us with your music, with your love, with your hope, with your joy. Fill us with your magic. Fill our hearts so completely and beautifully that we always know where to find you in ourselves and in each other.

Let's Keep Christmas
Whatever else be lost among the years,
Let us keep Christmas still a shining thing;
Whatever doubts assial us, or what fears,
Let us hold close one day, remembering
It's poignant meaning for the hearts of men.
Let us get back our childlike faith again.
     Ada V. Hendricks


Faith Hill - Where Are You, Christmas?

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