Washing feet -- and everything else in sight

Today I took M along with me to our Holy Thursday service, which was as great as usual. As people were washing one another's feet, I couldn't help reflecting on the day I'd spent ministering to sick kids. J in particular has it really, really bad. Let's just say I did more loads of laundry today than I think I've ever done in one day in my life: towels, sheets, blankets, clothes, rugs. I spent a few hours in the bathroom with her, too, moving her from the bathtub to the toilet and back again every 10-15 minutes.

Washing feet in ancient times was dirty work -- practically no paved roads, and poor sanitation, you know. Washing a child, and nursing her and getting up with her, is also a "washing of feet," and in its way, just as holy.

B is sick with nausea and a low fever, but not as bad as the girls, thank goodness. M, meanwhile, is almost completely recovered. I would have said she was all the way there, except that she took another three-hour power nap this afternoon, and she collapsed in the middle of church tonight (right during the Gloria!) -- fainted dead away, making quite a scene for the people around us. I was going to take her home, but she wanted to stay -- which she did, seated.

On the way home, M pointed out the moon -- a "bowl of milk in the sky." And tomorrow is Good Friday.