"There's nothing quite as pure and sweet
As the scent and feel of a baby's feet."
Many years ago while I was enjoying the wonder of my newborn baby girl I got a call that my dear friend Jewel wanted to see me and my baby. Jewel was like another mother to me, an elder's wife in the church, a gracious sweet lady, a mentor, and Jewel was dying of cancer. Her hospice nurse called me with this one last request so of course I was both sad and delighted to go. I dressed my baby girl in her prettiest dress and carefully placed the soft leather and satin booties on her feet that had been a gift from Jewel. When I walked in my friend's room she reached out from her bed to hold my bundle of joy and made what I thought was an odd request: Take off her shoes so I can see her feet. So I took off the shoes to reveal two tiny, perfectly pink, satiny soft baby's feet. Jewel held those feet up to her own pale, dry, wrinkled face and wet them with her tears as she said, "There's nothing quite as pure and sweet as the scent and feel of a baby's feet." I will forever hold that picture in my mind. I kept the little leather and satin booties and recently gave them to my own newborn grandbaby to wear. I thought again back to that day recently when I was playing with four-month old Eden Claire. I was playing pat-a-cake with her little bare feet and marveling at her flexibility as I held her toes up to her nose. To her delight (and mine) she grasped her big toe and put it in her mouth to suck on! And I thought of my friend, Jewel and what she said.
What is it about a baby's feet that is so special? I was thinking of this the other night as I soaked in the tub and scrubbed my own tired, callused feet. No matter how hard I scrub them, they still are rough and dry and will never be pretty and pink like the soles of those that have never touched the floor, never walked the miles that mine have walked. It reminds me of my soul, which was once pure and clean, untouched by the world, which eventually became stained by sin. Then through baptism and Jesus' blood it was washed clean again, pure and soft as baby's feet. It reminds me more of my old heart, which through years of experiencing life has become tougher, not as soft as it once had been.
Last weekend I was at a youth rally in Arkansas at which Keith spoke four different times. It had been a while since I had been to a youth rally and I was amazed at the number of public responses. At each event their were multitudes of teenagers coming down the aisle in tears to ask for prayer, rededicate their lives to God, or make public their faith in Jesus and desire to obey Him in baptism. Later as I related these responses to an older adult they expressed their alarm that these kids may have responded "out of emotion" or from "peer pressure" and I thought how sad it is that as adults we become afraid to be touched by our emotions. I hoped that those young people who responded will always feel influenced by their Christian friends around them to do the right thing rather than respond to the evil peer pressures of the world. I could relate to the song that we sang at the close of that youth rally:
My eyes are dry, my faith is old. My heart is hard, my prayers are cold
And I know how I ought to be, alive to You and dead to me.
So what can be done for an old heart like mine? Soften it up with oil and wine.
The oil is You, Your spirit of love. Please wash me anew in the wine of Your love.
I hope my heart and soul can stay as soft as Eden Claire's soles.
