“If I live alone, whose feet will I wash?”
Over a decade ago, whilst I was trying to decide whether to walk away from my husband and his baggage, I heard that quote. It stuck with me. Not that I was wanting to wash his feet. Boy feet get icky. I even avoid my kid’s feet these days. What it made me think about is that while it may be easier to live alone, it is missing something big.
In the Bible, people freak out about Jesus wanting to wash their feet. To him, it is all part of serving others. I think living alone means you have the backfiring luxury of not thinking about anyone’s needs but your own.
Most spiritual teachings cover that whole serve others first/ love others stuff.
At least that is what I was trying to tell myself tonight. Since it was so nice, we were hanging out in the backyard and I was grooming the dogs. Penelope slipped inside with one of the kids and ate a box of tagalongs. I controlled myself, fetched the peroxide and syringe, and proceeded to wrestle a badger. Meanwhile, we had put Lincoln inside so he wouldn’t eat any of the vomit for which we were waiting. Good times.
I left Penelope outside since I also needed to start dinner. I was calm enough to cheerfully accept the children’s help. Microwaves and toaster ovens are gifts from the Lord. Link was fussing, much like he normally does when he is trapped and Penelope is running loose outside. I tried to shush him while we poured various things in bowls, hoping for the best. (I am proud that I stopped Jonas from adding soy sauce and Old Bay to our Italian meatballs). I get a break and go to let Link out and….
He is standing in a body of water sized urine puddle. The dog that had been outside for over an hour and inside for ten minutes. There may have been profanity. I moved him outside and asked the 6yo to keep the toddler away from the crate while I gathered supplies—and tried to keep Mommy Dearest at bay. I fetched an old towel. The 6yo had abandoned her post, but thankfully the toddler had just run naked (another story) into the yard after the two gross canines. I dried the crate, sprayed liberally with the magic green stuff and…….
Heard one bark and the sound of the giant horse of an incontinent goofball clearing the gate in one leap. He went straight across the street to make friends with a small dog and his not very encouraging owner. Jonas caught him, but Lincoln got away and went right back after his new “friends.”
Meanwhile, the best neighbors ever swoop in to snap up the naked jaywalking toddler and scale a fence with a leash.
I tried to be still, breathe, find the humor, and be grateful for the opportunity to wash so many feet.