“Foot-Washing in The Salvation Army”

The following is my favorite of all of Mom's public articles. It also is probably the most widely known. When I was on a mission trip in South India and Salvation Army Captain asked me if I knew Major Betzann Carroll when he found out my last name. I said she was my mom and asked how he knew her. He explained that he didn't know her but that this article had touched him deeply, as he was stationed at a Salvation Army Hospital and had seen this kind of love from some of the nurses there.


“Foot-Washing in The Salvation Army”
Captain Betzann Carroll
January 26, 1993
Previously Published in "The Officer", "The War Cry (USA)" and "The Good News"

My arms were full and I was trying to do five things at once. I turned the corner to my office when someone yelled, “Mrs. Carroll! You have a telephone call on line one!”

Christmas is certainly a busy time in a Salvation Army Corps! Not only were my arms full with half a dozen last-minute “emergencies”, but also my mind was cluttered with details that needed to be finalized. Now there was the anticipation of what request would be waiting for me on the other end of the telephone.

I stopped dead in my tracks! The sight I witnessed before me changed my direction, my thoughts and even my life.

The little room across from my office houses a medical clinic for the homeless, the very people I was rushing around to assist. There are a number of wonderful programs to aid the homeless at The Salvation Army in Cambridge and sometimes in all the hustle and bustle I miss the beauty of them. The sight I was witnessing brought tears to my eyes.

An elderly man sat in a chair in the middle of the small clinic. His rough appearance didn’t seem to be an issue. Nor did the stale smell that lingered in the hall after him and intensified as one neared the clinic area. That was not the problem being addressed. I had often seen this man in the lunch line when he and his friends would line up for a hot meal, but now his face seemed to have a different look. On the floor was a plastic sheet carefully laid out and a basin of water. His feet were soaking in the warm water and a young woman, a nurse from the Cambridge hospital, which sponsors the clinic, was kneeling before him bathing his legs and feet. His lower limbs were an awful sight with ulcers and open, swollen soars.

As the woman spoke, her words were both warm and direct, “You must care for those feet and legs; they are in serious need of attention.” Her scolds were accepted almost as well as the bathing she provided. I could see Jesus in the nurse’s face. The whole picture before me seemed so compassionate, so necessary.

We still wash feet in The Salvation Army, along with legs and tear-stained faces. I can’t remember who was on the phone that day. I don’t remember if all the details were completed that day. Probably not, they seldom are. I do remember the elderly man sitting in the clinic chair at The Salvation Army. I think I will always remember. Jesus visited the clinic that day. He touched red, swollen feet and a lonely man’s heart. He touched me.