Holy Hands (Lisa)

I’ve been contemplating hands today. I look at my hands, both of them slowly and I thank you Lord for giving me two hands. They are now well tanned, wrinkled and sprinkled with spots of age, of life, but once they were young and vibrant.

They hold ten fingers that have dug in sand and dirt, molded pie dough and play dough, plucked at piano keys and violin strings, counted the days till summer begins and the days till a hospital stay ends. They have formed the sign of peace and folded together to weave themselves in prayer.

My hands have held my tears of joys and sorrows and caught the tears of loved ones just the same. They have held waiting for babies to come home and worries that grown ones would make it home. They have smoothed over rough spots, scars and deep wounds naked to the eye. My two hands have held others hands in friendship and in fear.

My hands have acted upon Love more often than not my entire life. I had not pondered before today how it was the Holy Spirit who inspired their movement. When I stretch my hands wide open, when I spread my fingers far apart, I imagine the Love that can flow back and forth, from me and back to me.

Recently on social media I have heard so many words of love and concern for our African American brothers and sisters who have lived a different life than I and shared a very different history than I. I have also heard so many words of love and concern for our dedicated and courageous men in blue.

Today I thank God for my two capable hands and my open heart to hold one in each palm. Lord, I pray for answers to keep all of Your children safe. I pray that all of our hands come together in peace. I fold my hands in prayer and thank you Lord for my two hands. I thank you for the ten fingers that can hold and count at least ten different things to pray for without short changing one concern for the other. I thank you for the Love that flows from You, into my hands and through my fingers when I make a peace sign and I strive to live a life of peace.

I fold my hands in prayer and I try to listen harder to hard things, that are hard to listen to, wrap my mind around, come to grips with, in myself, in my church and in my world. I wrap my hands around books that help me understand history, our history and our shared and painful history to know and acknowledge truths, to learn from them and to move forward.

Those of you who knew my Claire may have noticed her hands. They were so pure and white. No spots or wrinkles. No signs of age but they were covered in many, many tiny little scars from IV lines and difficult blood draw attempts. They had seen so much life but you wouldn’t have known about the scars unless you held her hands and felt the many, many scar bumps. Each one represented a trauma, a painful experience, a memory of pain, some tiny wearing you down kind of cuts and others very painful and searing.

It is often the hardest pains we carry that are invisible to the naked eye. The eye can be unseeing so often. We do not know the stories of those who cry out in pain unless we hold their hands and listen to their scars unseen. The Holy Spirit guides our hands more often than not. I am praying the Holy Spirit will lead me to hold more hands and listen.

Claire was a woman of compassion and acceptance. She was a true listener and lover. I feel her drawing me to create a circle of compassionate conversation in her name. In this circle there would be no judgement, all would practice good listening and contemplate one vulnerable question with the goal of understanding each other and living and loving more like Christ Jesus would have us do.

I have no more details other than this thought of a circle. If you find you might be interested please send me an email. We will see where Claire leads us. She knows all the good trails!

Peace, Love and Claire’s Joy,

Lisa