Maundy Thursday

.........But how would I react, I wonder
If You pointed to a basin of water
And asked me to wash the calloused feet
Of a bent and wrinkled old woman
Day after day
Month after month
In a room where nobody saw
And nobody knew.

(author's name not noted)

More than 30 years ago, my friend Suzanne shared this poem with our book study group and I have continued to think of it over all these years. I've made a lot of stabs at finding it with no success, until today! And how timely.
I shared a bit of it tonight as we sat around our beautiful table at church sharing a simple meal together as we prepared to follow the examples of Jesus in the simple acts of breaking bread and washing of feet in service to one another. I looked around that table, and I knew every heart and set of hands around it- every one a servant.
Michael washed my hands, I washed Di's. Di washed Dan's hands, Kendra washed Shameka's feet, around full circle. We served each other bread and cup in hushed darkness, whispering the words that matter- this is the body of Christ, for you my brother; this is the cup of salvation. We lingered in the silence, then one by one we left, each of us extinguishing a bit of the candlelight.
Servanthood is sacred and scarey stuff.