Holding Hands

Back when I was in seventh grade, my best friend, Ellen L. (not the bicycle Ellen), called me back to her. She was walking several feet behind me on our way home from school. She was doing that because my very first 'boyfriend' was walking beside me. She whispered in my ear:"If you put your books in your OTHER hand, he'll hold you hand." I walked back up to Darryl, switched my books to my left hand and lo! He held my hand! I was floating on air! Good thing I had a friend like Ellen to teach me how to do it!
Yesterday's Hours had the most beautiful passage from St Augustine's Confessions: "Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!" and Augustine goes on to say how God gently wooed him into submission...waited for him to move his books into his other hand so that Augustine could hold His hand! "You called, you shouted and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness."
And when I realized what I held in my hand, I both rejoiced and wept...because of what I had found...and because I had waited so long to find it. All I had to do was put my books into my other hand. I didn't have to let them go or drop hem on the ground. I simply had to move them to another place...and lo! God took my hand and my heart leaped for joy.

I was reminded of this last year, when speaking with someone who felt helpless because his wife was dying. I told him, "You can hold her hand." And that seemed to comfort him a bit. So much is said without words as we hold someone's hand.

When I pray, I desperately want to touch the person I am praying with. Most of the time that is acceptable to the other. I know that my hand will say, with its own flesh and blood, all the things my words forget to say when I pray. It is the commonality of our human-ness that brings life to prayer. Sometimes the hand can touch the part that most hurts on the other, sometimes, it is the shoulder, the head and most often the hand. The energy is exchanged. The pain and suffering are shared. The ecstasy and joy are shared. Holding hands.

Yesterday, I held a man's hand as he woke from a deep sleep induced to keep him from feeling too much pain. His hand was so swollen and bruised, but it was a beautiful hand. I knew a little of the work it did as I got to know him over recent months. "Hello, Dan," I said as he opened his eyes. "We are glad to see you. It's going to be okay. I promise. I know for sure. It is going to be okay." And He squeezed my hand. A strong squeeze. And part of me just wanted to fall to the ground and weep or disappear. Some moments seem just too holy to bear.

And then other things happened that I cannot write about. I think I've written about holding hands before. Don't care. Some themes are worth repeating.

The Augustine passage, I think I read 10 times to 10 different people yesterday. I would glance up and their eyes would be closed and there would be a smile. Sometimes a sigh. And one person I shared it with (did not read it to), told me that yes, Augustine was a bit 'touchy-feely' and it sounded like him. Ah, well, parts of the Body of Christ...not every wants to know God the way I know Him. I always need reminding of that.

But you know, I actually read some passages from John Calvin that informed me that God had reached him on a "hand-holding" level, even in midst of his "total depravity" doctrines.

When we are caught up in the day's sadness, or the day's joys...share both with each other. Pray for each other. Touch each other. God gave us the gift to FEEL. Of course there is a risk!

Better one day of extraordinary that a lifetime of nothing special.

Love, Cindy