It is winter in Zambia - the dry season. This means dust everywhere. Just sitting still, or riding in a car with the windows closed, the dust sifts in and settles in an innocuous but definite way.
It is also the perfect climate for flip-flops. I wear them; almost everyone who isn't working indoors wears them. By the end of the day you experience a fine grit - well just about everywhere. Feet are brown, clothese are dusty, your face feels gritty and your hair is just holding its own.
Just before dinner Tuesday evening, I could stand it no longer. There wasn't time for a bath, so I climbed into the tub inside the bath tub, ran the water and washed my feet. When I got to the dinner table, my feet were the cleanest part of me (with exception to my hands of course), and I can't tell you how wonderful that felt.
I felt prepared to receive the gift of food. I felt refreshed and more able to converse with my companions. I felt renewed. It made me think of the gift of foot washing that Jesus gave to the disciples - cleansing, renewing, refreshing. For the sake of the kingdom of God. A moment that caused me to pause and think.
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