The Power of Touch

"I can reach out to you, with my own two hands...Now I can hold you, in my own two hands...And I can comfort you, with my own two hands" - Ben Harper, "With My Own Two Hands"

Have you ever looked at your hands? I mean, really looked at your hands?

If not, look at them now. Look at the back. Now, turn them over and look at the palms. Study the lines and the way that your fingers bend.  

What do you see?

Surely, your hands tell a story -- a story of the past. And if you look closely at those lines, they just might tell the future.  

It's something that we don't always think about. But so much power lies within our hands. So much healing that can be transferred from one to another.

I’ll never forget the Christmas Eve candlelight service when my grandmother, Manga, reached over and took my hand in hers. She caressed my hand and moved her fingers over each one of mine as if she had never held a hand before in her entire life.

I was 13-years-old, and as all teenagers might feel - I felt a little awkward. Why was my grandmother taking my hand in the middle of church and grasping it in a way that showed me that she never wanted to let me go?

It would take some time until I truly understood the importance of that moment -- that moment of touch that must have meant so much to my grandmother.

But as experiences shaped my life, I realized that the touch of a hand is something that we all long for.

There's the touch of a mother or father who wiped away our tears when we faced disappointment. 

The touch of a caregiver who held a cold washcloth on our head and stroked our hair when we were sick.

The touch of our one, true love when we wondered if we would ever be lucky enough to find love in the first place. 

Or the touch of a friend who embraced us when our heart had been broken.

If we are lucky enough, we have felt the touch of a child’s tiny fingers -- little fingers that we had hoped and prayed for, and now, they were finally wrapped around our own. 

And when it seemed like the universe was closing in on us, there was that heart-wrenching moment of touch when we held on tightly to someone’s hand, knowing that this was our last goodbye. 

Yes, touch is incredibly powerful. And it is something that we all take for granted.

I never realized that I took touch for granted until last summer when we visited our family for a reunion in Canada.

I rarely see my aunt, uncle, and cousins, as they live in different states. But when we do see each other -- even if it’s once, every other summer -- we pick up right where we left off.

But every year that passes brings change. And every time we meet again, something new -- good or bad -- has happened to some of us.

And one change that has been difficult for all of us to witness is my aunt's loss of memory, as that evil disease called Alzheimer's steals her mind and claims it for its own.

While my aunt does not remember things like she used to, she is still with us. Her beauty remains on the outside, and her heart beats with the kindness that it always has.

Last summer, when she did not remember me or her other family members, her radiant smile captured the audience of every room that she entered, just as it always had.

But it's not only her sweet smile that remains, my aunt's comforting voice still makes me feel welcome when she tells me hello.

It's just that there is something missing from her expression. That sparkle in her eyes that used to dance when she spoke to me now seems distant, as if she desperately wants to bring that sparkle back, but she doesn’t know how or why.

For those who have never had to watch a family member’s health decline due to Alzheimer's Disease, it is one of the most difficult things to witness in your life. Your loved one is with you on earth and is staring back at you. But he or she is not truly there. 

And while my aunt’s health makes me sad, I can only imagine how heartbroken my cousins and uncle must be.

My eyes were opened to the pain my uncle feels when I saw him last summer. You see, I touched his hand while I spoke with him. I wanted him to know that I was listening to him and that I wanted to know how he was doing.

I thought nothing of my hand touching his. But my touch meant the world to my uncle.

“Thank you for your touch, Chrissie,” my uncle said.

As I looked at him quizzically, he explained, “I rarely feel the touch of others anymore. Your aunt is here, but she isn’t really here. She has been gone for some time. I have been alone. And so when someone touches me, it means so much to me.” 

I had no idea that this was how my uncle felt. But it made sense.

People long to be touched, especially those who are sad or sick or lonely.

My uncle is alone every single day. His wife is there. But she isn’t really. And while my uncle loves my aunt deeply -- as he always has and always will -- he longs for her embrace.

But I know that he isn't the only one who feels this way.

There's also the story of Steve Gleason who played for the New Orleans Saints from 2000-2008. In 2011, Gleason was diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease.

From everything that I have read or heard, Gleason has remained incredibly positive throughout his journey with ALS. He has even created an organization called "Team Gleason" to help others living with ALS.

A few weeks ago, I heard Gleason tell his story when he was Guest DJ on SiriusXM's Pearl Jam Radio. This is a show where the host will share and discuss the Pearl Jam songs that mean the most to him or her.

Gleason spoke of one of his favorite songs, "Given to Fly."

As he told his story about this song and why the lyrics "take my hand, not my picture," meant so much to him, I listened more closely to his explanation. It reminded me so much of what my uncle had shared with me.

Gleason went on to explain that many people want to take a picture with him, and while that is nice -- what he really wants is for someone to just take his hand -- to touch his hand. Just as my uncle misses the touch of his loving wife, Gleason misses the touch of those around him -- that touch that we all take for granted every single day.

As a newborn baby needs to be picked up and loved, others who are sick or lonely have the same needs and wants. And oftentimes, we are unaware of their needs.

Sometimes we are worried about touching others because we don’t want our touch to come across as inappropriate. 

But I will tell you this -- hands are meant to be shared with other hands. They can be used to provide guidance. They can be used for picking someone up. They can be used to rise up together. And they can be used to let others know how much you care. 

In Ben Harper’s song, “With My Own Two Hands,” he states: 

“I can change the world, with my own two hands

Make a better place, with my own two hands

Make a kinder place, with my own two hands

I can make peace on earth, with my own two hands

And I can clean up the earth, with my own two hands

And I can reach out to you, with my own two hands...

Now I can hold you, in my own two hands

And I can comfort you, with my own two hands"

Your hands are a gift to someone else...somehow and in some way, they are a gift. So use them. Don't keep them to yourself.

Even one touch just might change someone's life.