Sacrament: “a visible sign of an inward grace…” (Dictionary.com)
I think of the sacraments in terms of big C church. Things like communion or baptism, sacred things. Baptists like the stream I was spawned in call them ordinances. They save the word sacraments for the Catholics.
I received a sacrament tonight, from my daughter. She washed my feet, soaking them in herbs sent by an herbalist friend in Rhode Island. Then she massaged coconut oil into my feet and my hands, “so they wouldn’t be jealous”, as the younger kids say.
It has been a long day, filled with noise and the shrieks of laughter of bio siblings reconnecting. We have a branchy family tree, complete with grafted branches.
The constellation of brain symptoms the medical community calls post concussion syndrome were high. They all come together, like so many stars in the night sky. Dizziness, nausea, visual changes, warm pulsing fullness in the ears, zinging in the brain, an inability to process multiple items, difficulty finding words, and an overpowering sense of being on edge…
It is easy for me to go to self contempt. From that place I do violence to myself with my harsh thoughts. “You’re such a…” Or “why can’t you…” Or “how can you even be…”
Interrupting the barrage of thoughts comes my daughter, drawn home from her grown up world by love. Candles are lit, lights turned off, water drawn, herbs crushed.
And as my brain begins to quiet, the love seeps in.
John 13.” It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”
He loved them. And then He washes their feet. A servant’s job. It was a stretch tonight to receive, for this mother. (Peter thought so too, by the way). But it’s a love deal. And love breaks contempt, drowns it in kindness.
And in that space the ordinary becomes holy; a sacrament. Just for tonight…