THANKFUL

Oh, the joy of seeing the feet of God’s messenger bringing the good news of salvation to a people wandering in the wilderness of sin — Isaiah 52:7 (King Jimmy Translation)

The Massage

“Yu Got Gooud Feat”

(part two of four)

 

I lifted a corner of the towel to peek at what Sweet & Sour had in store for my feet. He elevated each foot and turned it from side to side for a closer examination. I assumed he looked for any diseases, ticks, or missing toes to protect him from any false claims of coming in with ten toes and leaving with six. I sat up.

I remembered Momma’s advice about never leaving home without clean undies and socks. She warned her tender Aggie scribe that someday a young, muscular man might hold my feet, and to his horror, discover lint accumulated between my toes because I didn’t change socks for three weeks. This toe-related lack of hygiene would bring shame to the family name.

“You see any athlete’s foot down there?” I asked. Boy, I’m glad I changed socks last week.

Sweet & Sour grunted. He remained silent, never lifting his head from studying my feet. “Yu got gooud feat,” he finally said, barely above a whisper. He looked up and put his hand to my chest. “Yu lay bak. Re-rax.”

I laid back and he placed the towel over my face again. Maybe it’s best I not witness what he does to my little feetsies.

His strong thumbs slowly massaged the bottom of my foot from the ball to the heel. Then he did the other foot. He manipulated his talented fingers, squeezing, rubbing and massaging my ticklish feet in all the right places.

At first, I suppressed my ill-at-ease giggling as Sweet & Sour’s wrestled my feet, but then re-raxation conquered me and all was well with the world. I yawned big. My feet seemed ten pounds lighter.

You have beautiful feet, the Lord said.

One of us needs glasses, Lord. I wouldn’t call my feet beautiful—especially after that freak little toe vs. loose dentures incident.

My eyesight is perfect, Jimmy. And the angels and I still laugh about that ‘incident.’

Is it because I have perfect bone structure and skin tone? Or is it because these feet have followed in the footsteps of A&M’s greatest?

The Lord sighed. Neither, Aggie. You have beautiful feet because wherever they take you, they take my message of love, grace and forgiveness to the world.

I felt the Lord wanted to divulge more details about his charge to share the gospel.

You carry the Gospel with you everywhere—even when your feet take you places you shouldn’t go, the Holy Spirit said. Your big feet carry your body, which is where I live.

Should I have not be here in the massage parlor, Lord?

Naw, you’re fine. Any massage parlor named Bigfoot is okay with me. (I’m glad the Lord has a sense of humor.)

Ahhhh! Comfortable. I drifted closer to dreamland. Re-raxed. Tranquility reigned in my body, soul and spirit as Sweet & Sour’s magically massaged my feet. Are your nail scars in my feet too, Lord?

Sure are, the Lord replied.

AHHHH! I bolted up on my elbows to see Goliath twisting my tickle-prone toes to 90-degree angles, evidently looking for lint.

“I hut yu?” Sweet & Sour asked?

“No, I’m okay. You took me by surprise.” I laid back and put the towel back over my face. Glad I went ‘bat-room furst.’

“Sorrie.” Sweet & Sour softly sung a familiar childhood melody: “Thes rittle pigie went market, thes rittle pigie sta hume. Thes rittle pigie had roat beef. Thes rittle pigie ha none.”

I grabbed the table when he seized my pinky. I expected the worst.

“Thes rittle pigie go—weh, weh, weh! —all da wey hume.”

The worst never came. Whatever Sweet and Sour rubbed my feet made them feel like a feather floating on air.

I heard thump-thump-thump coming from the Admiral’s table, like someone tenderizing pork chops with a meat cleaver. Is he karate-chopping cement blocks over there.

Before I could peek out the towel to check on the Admiral, Sweet & Sour grunted a new order. “Yu roll oveh.”

I complied.

He put the towel back over my head. In a moment, I experienced what those thumping sounds were. Sweet & Sour’s forceful yet soft hand-chops stimulated the back of my legs, relaxing the muscles. After a few minutes, only the law of gravity kept my legs from gravitating to the ceiling.

You’re my representative wherever your feet take you. You’re supposed to bring the good news about my love for everyone, the Lord said. Most of the time you do, the Lord sighed again, but . . . sometimes your message differs from mine.

You ride with me when I drive, don’t you, Lord?

I knew what the Lord meant. I don’t always portray a positive image of you, do I, Lord? I admit, at times I get testy, get a little sharp with people. I say things I shouldn’t. Oh, no! I grimaced. You go to the golf course with me, too, don’t you!

But I still trust you with my message.

Isn’t that just like Jesus? Always encouraging, never condemning.

Lord, are you giving me a message massage or a massage message?

Both, the Lord laughed. Just remember your “gooud feat” carry my gospel of salvation wherever you go, Jimmy.

Stay close to Jesus

Jimmy

P.S. Sweet & Sour carefully examined the abnormality of my right foot.

“I broke my foot in two places,” I said, explaining the defect.

“Not smart,” he said. “Yu no go there agin!”

(Continued)