Or maybe not. Let's look at this picture again...
This is probably a two-year-child, and clearly some event has required that this mother strip her daughter down to nothing and scrub her feet. Potty training? A stomach virus? (You know it's bad when it makes it all the way down to their socks--admit it, we've all been there). And the background doesn't look a nursery, but more like a parlor or living room. Why would you strip a child down to her skivvies in the living room unless circumstances required it? Circumstances such as, say, tracking mud across the carpet? Or maybe paint? And while the look on this mother's face could be translated as tender selflessness, it looks as though there could be a little jaw-clenching going on. Maybe even a little muttering ("I-brought-you-into-this-world-and-so-help-me....")?
But still she washes her daughter's feet. I'm sometimes tempted to think of the truly heroic mothers as the ones who always stay calm, patient and unselfish. But sometimes the most heroic moments of motherhood come when we're at our worst--when our child has pushed us to the very edge of our own limits of patience...or confidence...or sanity, and still we just deal with it. We suck it up, swallow our pride...or irritation...or comfort, and we deal with it. THAT is heroicism, plain and simple.
So if there is a naked two year old in your living room today, or a disrepectful 13 year old, or a heartbroken seven year old, my hat is off to you. You are dealing with it, and you are a hero.