Yup...I am still alive, and still in Ecuador, although you might not be able to tell from the lack of blogs I have written in the last few months. I even got an email from one of my biggest fans...a man named Dan Kemme...asking me to please update, even if its just a few sentences a week. haha! It really is not in my blood to write short things, but I will try to be better about updating!
Washing of the feet
As a Rostro de Cristo (“Face of Christ”) volunteer, one of our goals is to strive to see the face of Christ in the world around us. A few months ago, I was blessed with a moment in which I saw His face alive and right in front of me. I have wanted to share the following story with you since it happened, but reflecting about it on Holy Thursday brought it even more meaning.
In the rainy season, the streets in Arbolito turn into rivers and mudpits. Some are worse than others, but they are all pretty bad and make getting around much harder. Huge puddles of standing water allow bacteria and diseases to grow, even sometimes below people’s cane houses. In Sector Four, the poorest and most dangerous section of Arbolito where our friends Kika and Lucy live, a few houses even fell during the rainy season due to the weakening of the foundation in the wet ground. This season makes life a little more difficult for the already difficult lives of our neighbors.
One day in February after a particularly strong rainstorm the night before, I was walking with Carolyn to visit Lucy. Around Lucy’s house were some of the worst puddles that we had seen. It was literally impossible to walk to her front door because the entire street was filled with water, and even walking around the side to the back door led through lots of mud. Carolyn and I had been tip-toeing and puddle-hopping the whole way to Lucy’s to avoid getting our feet too dirty. However, as we took the route around the side of the house to the back door, I mis-stepped, and my foot landed in a big pile of wet mud. With a nice big “schhlooop” sound, my whole sandal got sucked in. “Shooot!” I said as Carolyn and I laughed and I pulled my foot out. It was just caked with mud. Lucy laughed at me as we walked through her back gate and toward her house. She handed me a little bucket of water so I could clean my feet before coming inside. I stood on her cement step, trying to balance as I took off my sandal, poured water over my feet, and tried to use my free hand to wipe the chunks of sticky mud off. I clearly was having a hard time and looking totally awkward, haha.
At that moment, Michelle, an 11 year old neighbor and friend of Lucy, got up from where she was sitting in the house, and walked over to me. “Mira” (Look), she said simply, as she took the little bucket from me. She removed my sandal and set it next to my foot. Then, with care, she proceeded to pour a stream of water over my feet and wipe the mud away. She did it matter-of-factly and almost nonchalantly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary or special about what she was doing. I felt like I should protest – my feet were so dirty! But I was speechless. I watched, amused and deeply touched, as she passed her hands over my feet until they were completely clean. “Gracias, Michelle,” I said, unable to really express the wonder and deep gratitude I felt in my heart. God was right there in that moment, staring me in the face. My heart was full for the whole afternoon, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the power of the moment. Washing feet is something we do in church once a year, as a symbol, to people’s whose feet are really already clean. Nobody REALLY washes each other´s feet, right?! It was such a small act, but it spoke volumes. When I got home that day, I took out my Bible, and found the passage about the washing of the feet.
“If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do. Amen, Amen, I say to you, no slave is greater than his master, nor any messenger greater than the one who sent him.” (John 13:14)
So, there it is, plain and simple. Jesus tells us explicitly in this verse that we are to serve others, no matter who we are, earnestly, humbly, with love and care. I have been thinking a lot lately about the phrase "Blessed are the poor in spirit." I don't think I ever really understood what that meant, but after living in Duran for 9 months, I am starting to get it. It is just this earnest and simple love for others, an understanding of our need for God, and faith in Him that is truly inspiring. When I looked down at Michelle’s face that day as she scrubbed away at my feet…wow…I saw the face of Christ alive, staring right at me. It was so beautiful! She saw that I was in need, and so she helped. As she washed my feet, I knew she wasn't thinking about any barriers of race, nationality, age, wealth...How I wish that I could have such a simple, humble heart whose only instinct is to reach out to a neighbor when they are in need - even when it means stooping down to wash mud off of someone's stinky feet. I feel so blessed to have received this little but POWERFUL reminder of God’s call to love others. Every day, I continue to learn what it means to lower ourselves in the humble service of others and to encounter the joy that God offers us when we do so.
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