Wait. What?" I asked, as Justin handed me a bottle of lotion.
"Yeah but only rub down the guys who need it and are too weak to do it themselves. Some of them just like it. Only the ones who need it," was the answer I received from our volunteer coordinator.
Prior to yesterday, the most uncomfortable act of service I've ever been asked to perform was the washing of the already-pretty-clean feet of a close friend. Now a volunteer coordinator at a Mother Theresa home in Calcutta is pointing at some ashy old dude with one toe, who's looking up expectantly at us.
I look to the sound, and Justin is holding the bottle out to me, his own hand already full of pink moisturizer.
Now mine is too.
No turning back now.
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