Washing Your Hands

Lately, the world seems to put me in very weird situations.

It seems to be asking me

no, demanding of me,

that I stop and take notice.

NOW.

Tonight I ended up in a care home for people who are needing a whole lot of medical care.

The person whose room I visited was a complete stranger.

I was visiting with the person who was going to visit her...

and somehow, I got included in on the visit.

This person has been struggling with a severe health crisis since June.

She is completely immobile.

She cannot move her fingers.

Cannot move her legs or arms hardly at all.

She is dependent on someone to feed her, offer her a drink, move her...

virtually everything.

Yet, here she was...bright eyes, kind smile, warm and welcome.

The good news is that she will very likely completely recover.

The bad news is that it will take a while.

A long while.

As we made small talk about favorite TV shows...or good singers...my mind wanted to curl up into the corner of that room and just sob at the arduous journey this single mother of three is on.

I wanted to scream and yell and demand the process to hurry...

Yet, there she was...grace in the flesh.

On the path, she'd made peace with it somehow, and showed us the way.

After the visit, I went to the restroom and I washed my hands.

I lingered in the warm water...moved my fingers, fiddled with my ring...

said a holy hello to these instruments of joy that I never properly thank 

as they toil day in and day out.

Hands...thank you.

Feet...thank you.

Eyes and ears and tongue and mouth and lungs...

THANK YOU.

Thank you for this gift.

Right now.

Offered freely every day.

Thank you for friends who visit others in hospitals and can't help 

but hug you right into the visit yourself.

Thank you for the gift of grace...

rescuing me...

encouraging me...

inspiring me.

If your body allows it, go hug someone.

Go sing.

Go dance.

Go laugh and cook and cherish and read and love.

Make a phone call.

Take a deep breath and wash your hands.