Washing. Feet.

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There was nothing virtual about it. You don’t text a foot washing. You don’t email tears. You show up. You eat bread. You drink wine. Add water. And then a towel. One by one he washed their feet. Dusty, sweaty, smelly feet. Some protested, of course. Some were embarrassed. Some were confused. Then he said it: “Love one another the way I have loved you.” That’s it. That’s how it works. One day at a time. One person at a time. One hand reaching out at a time. Lifting up those who have fallen. Generosity to another. A kind word to a stranger. A thank you to a friend. It’s picking up the check. It’s standing up against prejudice. It’s feeding the hungry. Visiting someone in the hospital. Sending a card. A note to a young person. It’s listening to another person. Really listening. Even if you’re busy. It’s following up. It’s showing up. It’s being available. It’s noticing someone else. What they are thinking. What they are feeling. It’s noticing what another human being is going through. It’s the human drama of being alive with others. And in the end, you can’t email it or text it or Facebook it or blog it.

It’s the business of being human. One smelly, dusty foot at a time.

 

 

 

 

 

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