Do you know that feeling when you wake up in the morning and you’ve been laying on your arm so that it cuts off the circulation to your hand? Your hand loses its feeling for a few seconds. You grab it with your other hand and it feels totally bizarre, like you just took hold of someone else’s hand. It feels like you are holding hands with a stranger all the while you are grasping your own hand. Then the tingle comes, the feeling rushes back, and things return to normal. Your hand feels like your hand again. Things are back the way they should be. It’s familiar, and comfortable.
There are other familiar hands in my life. After more than 30 years of marriage, my wife’s hand is very familiar to me. We probably hold hands much more often than the average married couple. We always have. Sometimes, when we are laying side by side in the early morning, I will reach over, grasp her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze that says “I love you. You are so precious to me.”
If, on some future sad day, God chooses to allow death to separate us and I am left, I think one of the things I will miss most is holding Tamera’s hand. Hands are special. Mouths tell of love. Feet take us to love. But hands . . . hands are what make love active. Hands show love in the most real and concrete ways. Hands make love happen.
Oh God, help me to have loving hands. And please, Heavenly Father, may I learn to recognize your hand in my life. Let me feel that gentle squeeze of the nail scarred hand that says “I love you. You are so precious to me.”