I have never liked to be alone.  Something in me just does not allow me to enjoy it.  I get lonely.  I get nervous.  Every ordinary noise of the house seems magnified.  Every breeze outside the window seems eery. 

When I was young, I went through a spell where I was afraid to sleep alone.  I was in middle school, so I wasn’t a small child.  My mother took pity on me and let me sleep in her bed at night.  My father was a truck driver and often gone during the week, so there was plenty of room.  Unfortunately, I was also a snorer (is that a word…hmm…you know what I mean…I snored…like a freight train.)  So, my mother would make me sleep with my head at the other end of the bed in an attempt to lessen the noise.  I probably should not have said that…might give my husband some ideas.  Anyway…

I still remember being in her bed at night.  She would fall asleep and I would still be awake.  Even though she was in the room, I would still feel alone.  So I would reach over and I would put one or both of my hands on her feet.  If I just held her by the feet I felt safe.  I felt secure.  I could fall asleep in peace. 

Now that I am an adult and have children of my own, I have this fascination with Emily and Ella’s feet.  I love to caress them and look at them…so small…so perfect.  Emily will often put her feet in my lap and ask me to rub them.  I always do.  There is something special about their feet.  Just knowing that God made them and that He knows every step they will take…even the ones they take long after I’m gone.

You may wonder why I am thinking about feet today.  Seems an odd thing to be dwelling on, I guess.  Well, at the request of our pastor, I am still reading through the book of Matthew.  Today I read chapters 27 and 28.  The death, burial and resurrection of Christ.  I find myself reading it as if I’m watching it all through the eyes of Mary Magdalene and the one known as “the other Mary.” 

We are told that these women followed Jesus from Galilee.  They had ministered to him along the way and they were watching from afar as he was crucified.  I can not imagine the pain and confusion they must have felt as they watched him suffer and cry out.  Jesus…one they loved.  Then, when Joseph of Arimathea takes Jesus’ body and buries it, the women are there.  It says that as he placed the body in the tomb and secured the door with a large stone…”Mary Magdalene was there, and the other Mary, sitting opposite the tomb.”

Then, on the Sabbath, the two ladies went back to the tomb.  They couldn’t stay away.  And then, when they arrive, there is an earthquake and an angel descends from heaven.  They are told that Jesus has risen and that they need to go and tell the disciples.  Then, here is the verse that just struck me…

And as they went to tell His disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying, “Rejoice!”  So they came and held Him by the feet and worshipped Him. – Matt 28:9

They fell to their knees and they held His feet…the precious feet of Jesus.  The feet that walked so many miles ministering, healing, teaching.  The feet that walked to the cross.  The feet that were pierced.  Precious feet.

When I get to heaven…I believe that I will fall to my knees and hold the feet of my Jesus.