Friday, March 29, 2013

A Master (Mistress?) of Ministry

All of the conversation about Pope Francis washing the feet of females who may have been Muslim has got me thinking again of a recent day that glows brightly in my memory.

Both my daughter and her youngest daughter are very particular about who they allow to touch them. I applaud them on this, except when it's my touch that they're avoiding. My daughter is extremely protective of her two daughters, physically, mentally, and morally. I also applaud this, as I'm a firm believer in  authority being attached to responsibility.

Several months ago, this granddaughter revealed that, although she'd like to have a pedicure, her mother had not allowed her to do so. Her mother was with us when she made this statement, and agreed that I could take the teen and her older sister for a pedicure. Because my daughter had heard horror stories about fungus imparted from the soaking tubs, and being the due diligence type, researched how to make sure your salon is following proper pedi-tub procedure. This included asking how long the salons disinfected between clients.

I had seen enough of my salon to know that a quick spray and swish was all their pedi-tubs got between my toes and the next set. Not wanting to carry the burden of guilt (not to mention my "mother ain't happy" tones and looks) should I choose a less than sterile environment for my precious daughter's precious daughter's toes, I aborted the mission...until their next trip to Louisiana.

I planned with my daughter to have a surprise day with her and her daughter who had never had a pedicure. I arranged with one of my most glamorous friends to create a spa day at her house. She took us to the beauty supply store where we purchased everything necessary to do a spa pedi, as instructed on the internet. The afternoon was spent in my friend's delightful company, and that of her two dogs, with my friend massaging my loved ones' legs and making their toes twinkle.

What a wonderful day it was for me, watching my daughter and her daughter succumb to the gentle female ministrations of my friend, something that my daughter has never been prone to doing. And even more marvelous for me is how happy it made my friend to wash the feet of my daughter and granddaughter. She lovingly talks about it several months after the event.

This is my idea of ministering to each other.

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