No, these beautiful feet are not mine.
The kids caught a few minutes of an old 19 Kids & Counting episode yesterday. It was the one where some of the children and cousin Amy decide to surprise Grandma Duggar to an at-home Spa treatment, complete with a foot bath, massage, pedicure and facial.
Ever inspired, Maggie rallied the troops shortly thereafter, and the kids found a plastic tub for washing my feet. It was decided they would treat poor, tired Mama to a relaxing foot bath and massage after dinner.
Who was I to argue?
That evening, I was on the couch nursing Olivia, when the fun began. Jeff helped them pour warm water into the tub. Lilly snagged the foaming hand soap from the bathroom and gave it a few squirts. Lena ran to get the lotion for afterward. Christopher got a towel for the drying.
They gathered around. The washing began.
And that wasn’t all that began.
Imagine, if you can, five children, packed around one little foot tub. Each vying for space and a portion of Mama’s foot to rub.
I have small feet.
And only two of them.
Yes, it played out pretty much like you probably just imagined.
A few settled for sitting by me on the couch, rubbing my hands or shoulders. Christopher sat on my left, and is an excellent hand massager. I rested my head back on the couch and anticipated some relaxation.
But his constant chatter and questions never ceased. And little by little, they forgot about blessing Mama as they each fought to have their own way, to get what they wanted, to have more of my praise.
“Does this feel good, Mama?”
“Am I doing a great job?”
“I’m on this side.”
“I’m rubbing this foot; you get on that side.”
It was almost impossible not to think about how we must look to God. We start out wanting to bless Him. Serve Him. Make Him proud. We end up pushing and shoving. Vying for attention. Wanting to know who’s the best. Wanting Him to listen to our constant chatter.
But you know what? I wasn’t frustrated at how things dissolved. Despite the fussing and the childishness, I really was blessed. I really did feel pampered and relaxed.
Maybe it wouldn’t take much pampering to make me feel pampered these days.
But I think it also has something to do with how I love my kids.
Even though they kind of botched it up. Even though they were selfish and childish through much of the task. Somewhere in there was still a desire to love on their Mama.
And my love covered a multitude of imperfections.
I think I must have learned that somewhere.