Thelanguageoflight’s Blog
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Please Don’t Let Me “Think”

Last night I stood in the dark, surrounded by a group of homeless men, in what most would label a “bad” part of Tampa. My friend Rita and her daughter have been making “Kwik Kits” for several months now. Backpacks filled with a variety of things that most of us take for granted – aspirin, Band-Aids, socks, a needle and thread – the dozen she brought went quickly.

Gathered around the open tailgate of Rita’s Honda, the six or seven men sorted through the large pile of clothes she’d also brought. Pairs of jeans that no longer fit her husband, sweaters, old jackets. The temperature was dropping into the 40s and none of them had the ten dollars to stay at the Salvation Army up the street.

“Do you have any footcare stuff?” asked a tall thin man called Sergio. He told us his real name, but made it clear he didn’t use it on the street. I asked him what he meant by “footcare” and he said his feet were “a mess.” I told him there were sanitary wipes and Neo-Sporin in the Kwik Kits and he smiled and said, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

I asked if he needed medical help for his feet and he assured me they were cracked and bleeding because they got wet all the time. He pulled the black knit cap down lower on his forehead and grinned, “I remember those nuns in Georgia who washed my feet.” I encouraged him to go on with a curious glance.

“All the guys lined up to get in that church. They soaked my feet in an iodine bath. Then they cut the nails and scrubbed the calluses.” Sergio was animated as he told the story and his lanky arms mimicked the nun’s actions. “They rubbed cream all over my feet and then put them in a clean pair of socks. It was like being touched by Jesus.” He laughed and gave me a hug.

I woke up this morning thinking about Sergio. I am uncomfortable with the pull I feel to find him today so I can wash his feet. Not because I feel sorry for him. But because I want to reflect back to him the light he is. To remind him that we are all the same, no matter income, living status, or amount of possessions.

Fear creeps in. Ego has plenty to say. It’s a risk. Don’t show him where you live. You’ll never “get rid” of him. All the voices of the “reasoning” mind that have no knowledge of the protection invoked when guidance is followed. I pray I’m weak enough to listen and strong enough not to “think” about it.


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