Saturday, October 24, 2020

Later You Will Understand

Perched on the counter beside her,
chattering of lands far away,
I watched her fill the kitchen sink
ankle deep with warm suds.

Then came the invitation.

Peeling off socks, I slid aching
arches into their bath,
where they met with the tender
touch of home – love wrapped
in hands shaped to serve.

It wasn’t the first time
my feet had surrendered into
welcoming hands,
but they were much tinier
when guided carefully 
from her womb, 
a “little footling breech”
who just couldn’t wait 
to meet her Mama.

As I pat my own feet dry
an ocean away,
a similar yearning 
is lodged in my heart – 
these past nine months
a different kind of waiting – 
not for birth but to feel
again her touch.

Savoring new hope 
in feet freshly washed,
my heart is drawn to 
the Savior who knelt,
the full extent of his love
poured out by hands which
cleansed both feet and hearts.

Spoken in the language 
of basin and towel,
his invitation called 
the beloved to yield
sullied feet and clamoring 
control to the hands of the 
shaper of stars and seas.

Sliding upon splashes,
his words danced forth:
“Later you will understand” – 
this love a mystery
spreading deeper still
as souls soak in its
boundless basin.

Perhaps those same words
floated in the air 
of her kitchen as she
followed the example he set,
tenderness transferred to
once tiny feet by my mother’s
caring caress. 

Like his dear friends
in the upper room,
I realized not what she
was doing. Only later,
across the sea,
would I understand – 

the love flowing with 
water through her fingers
bound us together
forevermore.

© Halle Thompson
September 26-October 24, 2020

“You do not realize now what I am doing, 
but later you will understand.” 
Jesus in John 13:7

Drawing by @trustandsee

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