Sometimes, clients keep their socks on when they lie down, asking me to remove them when it’s time to massage their feet. Often, they’re in pain and can’t—or don’t want to—reach that far.
I usually do this at the end of the massage, when they’re relaxed and less ticklish. I start at the ankle and slide the sock down quickly but gently. Many people have dry skin on their feet, so I apply plenty of oil or cream and rub it in with a firm touch. I massage the top, the heel, the sole, and the toes, and feel the tension leave, first the foot, then the ankles, then ebb from rest of the body. Finally, I slip the socks back on and finish with a light squeeze.
Each time I do this, I’m reminded of caring for my children’s tiny feet when they were babies—slipping socks on and off, tying their shoes, playing with their toes. When we are young parents, we rush, telling the kids to stop fooling around because we need to be somewhere. Now that they’re grown and I’m older, I replay those moments slowly, savoring the sweetness of those simple acts.
It also brings to mind the story of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet—removing the day’s dust, drying them with a towel, showing care and humility, and at the same time claiming a quiet dignity that reveals why the greatest of kings are those who humble themselves to serve.
Deep Calls 