Last week would have been my fathers 91st birthday. He had hoped to make it until he was 90. He fell just over 3 months short of that.
It was our blessing, David's and mine, to watch over him in his last decline years. Among all those hard times with decisions and caretaking were many precious moments. I will share one particularly meaningful but small experience in remembrance of him.
Yesterday I washed my father’s feet. These were feet that had walked the earth for nearly 88 years. They were the feet of the child grown old; the nails, brittle, thick and crooked needing attention. Attending to them was impossible for him. He sat in a chair, I on the floor in front as I gently washed and dried his feet. I took each foot and carefully clipped, cleaned and filed his toe nails. When I was finished he held out his hands. They received the same careful attention. I trimmed his hair, his eyebrows his neck and he was grateful. We talked cheerfully and as our visit ended and as I was on my way home I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for this opportunity to serve him. It was to me, a little thing but it filled my soul and I wept. Pictures of the Savior washing the feet of the apostles flashed through my mind. I could see Him in that humble position at their feet. I remembered the scripture “Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these.....ye have done it unto me.” With overwhelming humility… I felt somehow, that my service was to Him as well. Happy birthday Dad. We miss you still.
