I remember

I was 15 or 16, and at camp. It was church camp for Sheridan hills and there was a nightly gathering that one of the adults gave a sermon, or whatever you call it. And at the end, the finale was the washing of feet. They said that if you had wronged someone, even in your heart, to ask if you could wash their feet. And to my utter surprise, I got a tap on the shoulder from a guy in my age group. This guy was cool, and while he was washing my feet, removing my shoes and socks, and reverently washing my nasty smelly teenage feet, I started wondering in what did he think of me to end up prostrating himself like that before the entire camp? But that wasn't part of the exercise, so I still don't know. But washing someone else's feet; it takes on a new meaning from my current perspective. And I guess, like back then, where everyone walked everywhere, and your feet were a sacred tool, probably the most valuable asset; having them washed, must have been a very personal almost intimate act. Something reserved for close friends. Now I'm sure servants and younger members of the family got the chore of washing the feet of the travelling salesman, or visiting merchant. But for the head of the house to wash someone's feet, that is something different. Its more than a handshake or a hug, or even a salute. So here I am 30 years later, thinking of a moment and a person that I didn't know wronged me somehow. I'm not really sure why this came to mind, now of all times. While I was writing this, sitting on the side of the road, an older man named Luther stopped to give me 15 bucks, then he came back and gave me his lunch for the day. And while that was happening, a butterfly landed on my hand. The simple kindness of strangers, is just amazing and lifts my heart. Now my belly will be full, there will be a spring in my step, and the day will be a wonderful adventure.