Foot Care

Today I decide a little pampering is in order. Predictions for Friday include temperatures into the 80's - sandal weather! But my feet are a mess. I haven't paid much attention to them and lately they have been aching and burning a lot at night. I figure its some sort of residual from the treatments, having experienced this sort of thing before.

I have a port draw mid morning - same old same old - and then head for the mall to find that little nail place. It is completely devoid of activity. One skinny Asian gentleman is surfing the web, one obviously pregnant woman is sitting in a chair sipping an iced coffee. No one looks up as I walk in, and I stand there a few minutes until the guy realizes I am there.

I tell him my mission and select a peachy color of polish while he fills the foot basin. He carefully lays out various implements and motions me into the chair. I plunge my feet into the warm swirling water and sigh contentedly. He wanders off, leaving me to enjoy the warmth after providing a bottle of cold water for my hydration.

The pregnant woman saunters over, grabs a little stool and seats herself comfortable in front of the station where I am seated. She speaks fluent Asian of some sort, with a soothing intonation and gentleness that is matched by the movements of her hands. She is careful and deliberate in her motions, thorough in her ministrations. I close my eyes, reveling in the comfort, little shivers running up and down my body.

I wonder how she cuts without drawing blood, how she clips without slipping, how she knows every little spot in my foot to press so the tension is released and drained. She drapes a hot towel across my legs and slathers on minty lotions and creamy potions, massaging them deep into my dry and withered skin. Not just winter dry. Chemo dry. Radiation dry. She has no idea, but I do. My skin drinks it in greedily.

As she paints my nails, I look at her in wonder. How did she come to work in this great salon? When is her baby due? Will she keep working? She seems to get along so well with the other technicians - is she related? Does she like this kind of work? Does she mind caressing the feet of total strangers, people who don't even speak her language, people who's customs seem strange.

I suddenly think about Jesus washing the disciples feet. Such an intimate and loving act. What would I have thought if Jesus washed my feet? Would I have sat back and basked in the wonderful comfort, as I am doing today? Would I have said with Peter, "I am not worthy?" Would I have felt shame? Been totally immersed in his love? Worried about how stinky and dirty my feet were?

Tomorrow at the Maundy Thursday service there will be a foot washing. Last year Sherri said she was going to have us wash each other's feet. Will I be up to the task? Whose feet will I be required to wash? Will I be able to do it in total love? Will I really mean it? I don't know. I will have to ask God for grace.

Meanwhile, I snuggle down beneath the drying lights and wait until it is safe to put my socks back on. It will be a long wait, but I don't mind. It is quiet. The technicians sit in the pedicure chairs and sip cool drinks as if they were at the beach and chat softly, waiting until I am done. It is a peculiar sensation, but I must admit, my legs and feet feel a lot better than they have in a long time.

I smile and take a deep breath. Tomorrow it will be my turn. I make a memory inventory of how she washed my feet. Perhaps it will help me make someone else feel better when I am kneeling at the other end of the towel. I wonder if there is such a thing as a heart washing. Maybe I can sign up for that while I am at it.