Wrestling is a genetic trait among Jones boys. Countless hours have be spent practicing, running, sweating, starving, aching, suffering. For some reason it was all counted as fun. Practice often included running sprints about 5:30 AM, running for lunch, 3-4 hours of actual practice time after school, and running in the evening.1 It was a bit grueling, but again, somehow it was all counted as fun.
On one particular night after a very hard match, which included the usual black eyes and split lips, I sat down in the recliner in the living room to rest. I don't remember why, but for some reason Mom volunteered to massage my feet. I gladly accepted. They hurt. In fact, everything hurt. Mom quietly and tenderly work out the tension and pain of my sore muscles. I probably fell asleep due to the relief...or the Ibuprofen.
The significance of this simple act of service was certainly not understood or appreciated as it should have been at the time. Years later though it has often brought to mind the simple act of the savior as he sat with those he loved most. “[Jesus] riseth from supper, and laid aside his garments; and took a towel, and girded himself. After that he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded.” Mom understood what the Savior meant when he said, “If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet.” Countless hours of service. No visible reward.
I suppose the true significance of this act of service came into view as new little feet came into my own home. Each pair of feet needing special care and attention. I only hope that I can serve as thoughtfully as those who have left such great examples to look on.
1. Spitting is gross. Besides if you can spit, you aren't running enough or dieting right.