Feet

During my 4th semester at college I went through a small bout of depression. What triggered it was really quite silly but it was a HUGE deal to me at the time. I knew that I had no reason to be as depressed as I was. I was TREMENDOUSLY blessed. I would make list after list of my MANY MANY blessings. I was surrounded by amazing roommates, wonderful friends, and even a very involved and caring brother. School was going splendidly. I had just gotten into one of the most competitive nursing programs around. I was healthy and had a job and had all my physical needs provided for. And yet still I sat around perpetually crying. No amount of reading talks or studying scriptures or listening to uplifting music could release my heart from the fog and darkness it was in. I was alive but not really living.

My first clinical rotation began. I was assigned to a nursing home an hour north of where I was living and was to visit there every Thursday for 8 hours, arriving around 5:30 a.m. and leaving around 2:00 p.m. After each clinical I would travel to my favorite temple in the area, the Mt. Timpanogos Temple. I would walk the grounds and sit in my car listening to church music and write in my journal. That provided me tremendous peace despite my depression but still couldn't completely shake it.

My first patient was a grumpy old man from out of state that had been life flighted to the university hospital because his oxygen tank exploded when he was smoking, leaving him with severe burns over 75% of his body. After months in the burn unit, he was finally transferred to a nursing home to continue his recovery just in time for me to be assigned as his student nurse. He hated everyone and everything. He told me about how he wished he had died, that there was no point in living. He would cuss and yell and make everyone miserable like himself. After an entire day of taking care of him, I was worn out and SO ready to be done with him forever.

The next clinical day came and again I was assigned to this old man. I was so disappointed. I went and found a quiet corner and prayed for strength. His nurse informed me that his legs, where the doctors had been forced to take a skin graft from to use on badly burned parts of his body, where dry and cracking and bothering him and could use some special moisturizing cream. I timidly entered his room and put on my best smile, offering to help him with his sore legs but dreading it. As I bent down and took his scaly, scarred, and painful-looking feet and legs in my hands and slowly worked this lotion into his skin, my mind recalled a similar image. I saw the Lord of all creation bent over the feet of his disciples, bathing their feet in reverence and humility on that Passover night. His apostles didn't understand that after that meal, Christ would offered them a great service even, the ultimate sacrifice, in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross at Golgotha. I imagined his tremendous love for these disciples as he went on to teach them "A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another." (John 13:34). In that instant, my heart softened toward this man. I saw him as a person loved by his Savior, loved so much in fact that Jesus Christ was willing to suffer and die for him. An then I saw myself as someone loved by the Savior as well. I knew that even if I was the only one in the world that had needed rescuing, that would have been enough and he would have carried his burden for me. 

The words of the song "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" came clear into my mind. 

A poor, wayfaring Man of grief

1. Hath often crossed me on my way,
   Who sued so humbly for relief
   That I could never answer nay.
   I had not pow'r to ask his name,
   Whereto he went, or whence he came;
   Yet there was something in his eye
   That won my love; I knew not why.
2. Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
   He entered; not a word he spake,
   Just perishing for want of bread.
   I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
   And ate, but gave me part again.
   Mine was an angel's portion then,
   For while I fed with eager haste,
   The crust was manna to my taste.
3. I spied him where a fountain burst
   Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
   The heedless water mocked his thirst;
   He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
   I ran and raised the suff'rer up;
   Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
   Dipped and returned it running o'er;
   I drank and never thirsted more.
4. 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
   A winter hurricane aloof.
   I heard his voice abroad and flew
   To bid him welcome to my roof.
   I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
   And laid him on my couch to rest,
   Then made the earth my bed and seemed
   In Eden's garden while I dreamed.
5. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
   I found him by the highway side.
   I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
   Revived his spirit, and supplied
   Wine, oil, refreshment--he was healed.
   I had myself a wound concealed,
   But from that hour forgot the smart,
   And peace bound up my broken heart.
6. In pris'n I saw him next, condemned
   To meet a traitor's doom at morn.
   The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
   And honored him 'mid shame and scorn.
   My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
   He asked if I for him would die.
   The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
   But my free spirit cried, "I will!"
7. Then in a moment to my view
   The stranger started from disguise.
   The tokens in his hands I knew;
   The Savior stood before mine eyes.
   He spake, and my poor name he named,
   "Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
   These deeds shall thy memorial be;
   Fear not, thou didst them unto me."

As I cared for this old man and his wounds, I felt the wound inside of me healing as well. I felt my broken heart being put back together. Tears wet my face, but they were tears of a soul finally at peace. I was whole.