“Got any lotion ‘round here? Your feet look very dry,” said my friend as she concluded our afternoon visit in my study, her navy shirt and shorts setting off her summer-tanned limbs as she stood up. Daily swims free up chronic pain that enables and enhances her care for others. Each time that she comes, she treats me with a high-calorie protein smoothie, its almond butter and chocolate, a perfect blend. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll get it,” she added.

I shook my head. Her question reminded me to add lotion to my next shopping list as I’d just used up what I had.

“Well, I’ve got some, here,” she said already fumbling around in her over-sized bag. “We can use some of this.” Flipping off the lid, she squirted large portions of creamy lotion in her ample palms and rubbed them together. Already, fragrance filled my study, a fitting comparison to the sweetness of my friend, as I waited for her touch.

Then, I felt her strength course through my bluish-purplish bare feet, felt them tingle and giggle, the truth being that I rarely offer such care to my feet because of not being able to reach them. And then it was over, the lotion recapped and dropped into her purse.

Immediately, another experience of foot-care seized my imagination. Hearty in spirit, strong in nurturing, He cared for His disciples’ road-dusty feet, despite the reluctance of one of them. I admit a tinge of my own until feeling the smoothness and lingering fragrance of the lotion. I, too, had been touched and my feet still sing.