Oh, and the mom didn’t bring enough diapers.
Did I have extra?
“No, sorry,” fake sincerity oozing.
The truth was I couldn’t get beyond the feet, those tiny, filth-caked feet. I mean, how much effort does it take to wipe two pair of teeny feet?
I simmered as a question darted through my mind.
Do you know what’s worse than dirty feet?
Um, fingers covered in sticky goo?
No, a dirty heart.
My heart showed up to serve, but instead judged. My heart longed to above all, to love each other deeply (1 Peter 4:8), but instead got stuck on the surface.
I desire for all to know the love of Jesus, but I prefer if the “all” arrive cleaned-up, dusted off, and with clean feet.