Washing feet

In these few days before Easter my faith community invited friends from the low income and homeless population who eat with us on a regular basis to come and have their feet washed, massaged with lotion and then pick out new socks and shoes. I participated for the second year and found it deeply transforming as always.
Men don't usually get their feet washed and massaged by another person even when they are financially well off. Women are more likely to have experienced such care since having a pedicure once in a while seems pretty normal for many women. Most people never have the opportunity to wash the feet of strangers and through the washing to encounter holiness. It was a day of grace.
I found myself washing and talking and in the talking and the washing a lot of touching stories were shared. I like to ask people if they know why we are engaging in such an intimate experience and only two or three of the people I spoke with were aware of the story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. It is a story of love, tenderness and humility -- and the need to serve others across the usual boundaries of wealth, race and creed. Christians may know this story without really knowing the experience.
I listened to some amazing stories and felt a deep connection to the people who were willing to sit down at my station and let me wash and massage their feet; poor tired feet that walk a long ways in shoes that don't fit, with callouses that rub and socks that have holes where the feet need the most tender care.
I rejoiced with a woman I have known for 25 years and have rarely seen sober. She was clean and sober and had been so for six months. We hugged and laughed and she was genuinely happy for the shoes as well.
There was another woman who has had lots of troubles. Over the years I have had a number of less than optimal encounters with her because it is my task to keep the peace and sometimes peace can only be kept if someone leaves for a time. She said she was humbled I would wash her feet. I think she doesn't understand that it is I who was humbled because she let me.
And there was the lady who was so cheerful and sweet while she told me how hard it has been for her to find shoes that fit. We had some men's shoes that were wide enough and that was a gift. Her parents did not know until her feet were malformed that she really needed corrective shoes. Now she walks slowly and her feet and ankles need a gentle massage everyday, though that need is not attended to. 
A man from Guatemala shared the story of his father's death. He was murdered, pulled from a bus along with 47 other passengers who were also killed. Members of the military shot them all. The man was nine when this happened. He had slept too long and so missed being on that same bus. Later, he took another bus. He saw the body of his father's friend laying among other bodies, and so much blood... it was everywhere he told me. I shared that I had been to Guatemala once and that I thought it was a beautiful country. He would love to see it again one day but not now. It is dangerous he said. That is why he shared his story with me.
Another man told me how he had always loved to dance, in fact he had taught in a prestigious high school dance program and had danced on the stage. He had always wanted to dance but his father said no, worried that dance was not a man's career. When he graduated from high school he enrolled in dance classes through a friend's mother and discovered he was really talented, so much so that with the help of his dance teacher he received a full scholarship to a university dance program. That is how he became credentialed to teach in the schools. He especially loved tap as it was "like playing the drums with your feet, so many sounds and rhythms". We had a lovely conversation and a good connection. I love to dance and took lessons a long time. My mother was a dancer and a dance teacher, as is one of my daughters today.  I had to ask the man why he was no longer dancing. He had a physical problem that came out of nowhere. He thought if he could lie down and rest it would get better. He didn't go to the emergency room where early intervention might have helped. The event left him unable to teach or dance and his life changed dramatically.His feet were soft and strong.
Tonight at church we will ritually wash feet as we remember the last supper and the actions of Jesus.
I will bring in my heart the stories I heard today.