I've already talked a bit about my feelings on Easter, but to reiterate - they aren't terribly grand. When I was younger I would often go to church on Holy Thursday [that's today] with my friends, which was pretty unusual. Our church had this tradition of having the priest wash the feet of certain pre-selected church people. I think it was either largely or entirely comprised of people who were going to be confirmed that spring. I was entirely terrified that I would be selected. Looking back now, there is no way I would have been as I wasn't really churchy and my original confirmation name was rejected for...I dunno...being too hookery? But at the time, I was thirteen years old and I had enough of my own problems without worrying about putting my feet on display in front of a crowded church.
Anyway, I wasn't selected and therefore I've gone my whole life without a priest pedicure. Or any kind of pedicure [I don't like paying people to touch me]. I've also never been on the other end of things so tonight I washed someone else's feet. It made me feel really subservient, but I guess happy that I was doing something nice for someone, without expecting something in return. I used bath bubbles and bath salts and a citrus scrub...which I'm sure Jesus would have done too, if they were available to him. Instead he probably used myrrh because dang, that guy loved myrrh.
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