“You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” John 13:13-15

Last night, we attended the Maundy Thursday services at our church.  Luckily, childcare was provided so JJ and I thought it would be a good opportunity to experience each service our church offers during this Easter weekend.

We were preparing to drop all three children off in the childcare room when my friend mentioned that she was going to allow her two older boys, one of which is Susannah’s age, to worship with us.  Admittedly, I had thought about including Susannah as we were driving into the lot and when my friend said this I took it as a “OK, God.  We’ll take her in with us,” kind of moment.

I’m so glad I listened.

I don’t always listen.  Sometimes I tell Him “not now” or “you couldn’t possibly be serious.” But this time I listened and oh…was it ever such proof that we should just lay ourselves down at the foot of the cross.

We had been discussing the Last Supper earlier this week and Susannah mentioned she wanted to see a picture of this pivotal event of the Easter story.  We looked at many versions (thank you, Google Images!) and we all decided that we liked the Da Vinci painting the best.

We then looked at the scripture surrounding the Last Supper and found the above verse.  Susannah was mesmerized that Jesus would get down and wash the feet of his disciples because it was so unheard of for someone of his stature to serve those who are considered to be “beneath” Him.  Yet He did.

Our church incorporated a “congregational foot washing” in which each member present would have the opportunity to have their feet washed and then wash the feet of another.  In other words, we would be served then we would serve.

I have done this before and it was powerful.  To allow someone you oftentimes don’t even know do this for you can make us feel so vulnerable yet so moved at the same time – you just must simply stop and allow yourself to be served.

I gave Susannah the choice to just go up to the altar with me and watch or actually participate.

To my utter surprise, she chose to participate.

I washed my little girl’s feet.

I have washed my little girl’s feet about a million times since her birth just five short years ago.  But this time was so different.

The statement was profound.

I serve her every day.  I serve her lunch.  I serve her the toothpaste on her toothbrush.  I serve her snacks.  I serve her my time.  I serve her drinks when she is thirsty.  I serve hugs when she is sad.  The list is endless.

Admittedly, serving can sometimes be exhausting.  Sometimes I just want to belt out “I CAN’T SERVE ANYONE ELSE ANYTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!!!”

But this serving, this foot washing, was so much more than the minutiae of the everyday.

Technically speaking, I am above this sweet girl in stature.  Yet I bowed to her and washed her tickly little girl feet and kissed her sweet little toes with tears streaming down my face.

I’m certain the congregants were about to call for a dose of Prozac.

As I kissed her toes, with the tears, I told her “I love serving you. I love being your mommy.  You are so precious to me.” She giggled.

Then it was her turn to wash.  I was a bit of a hovercraft because I was worried that the sweet lady who would be the washee to Susannah’s washer role would feel like she had gotten gypped out of a good old foot washin’.

Then I remembered we were not at Le Nails getting pedicures.

Guided gently by her daddy, she followed the correct hygienic procedure.  She did not wash the woman’s feet for long but she scrubbed the tops and the bottoms and the experience was not lost on her.

She was able feel the wonderful feeling of serving someone she doesn’t even know.  She was tickled and felt so good that she had washed the feet of this woman.

Susannah got up to leave when the woman stopped her, looked at her, and said “thank you”.  She then grabbed Susannah’s innocent face and planted a kiss on her soft cheek.

The moment was beautiful.

And that’s how I get to start my Easter weekend, folks.  Serving one the most wonderful blessings that has been given to me here on this earth and watching that same blessing serve someone else.  Watching someone else love my child.  Watching Jesus’ love pull two people together who are generations apart.

Happy Easter weekend, my sweet friends.  He has risen indeed.