I think of cancer. I think of those in my large and diverse family of love who have cancer.
They fight.
They persevere.
And I am angry. Or I want to be angry. Or I wish I was more angry. I don’t know. I am worn by loss and frustrated at how little I can do and I know that in saying that I make the pain of others all about me but honestly, I so fear more losses that come too soon.
And I know that people are praying for an end to cancer. And I know that the prayer is being answered in all of the research and the caregivers and the work done each day, but it isn’t enough and it all takes so long.
And so I do what I can here. Now. I can offer my love and my thoughts and my prayers, knowing it is not enough, it is never enough, but I have to begin. And so here, I begin.
Let us pray:
Reach out and touch, hold, someone’s hand.
If you can.
And I know you may not be able to touch another in this time of trial, so maybe you remember a time when you could hold another’s hand instead.
I think of a dear friend, walking side by side as she reached over and took my hand, calming my own griefs in a moment of love.
I think of children, reaching up as we walked in line from classroom to recess or lunch or maybe to the music room, taking my hand feeling my love and warmth given freely.
I think of my wife, sleeping beside me and of reaching out, gently, softly, to feel her warmth but not wake her from her dreams. (I woke her anyway and she smiled her sleepy smile at feeling my warmth).
I think of my mother, laying in the body she lived in, barely able to move, not from cancer but from the layerings of age. As she lay, I picture sitting beside her, touching her arm, her hand. Feeling her hand close with all its strength around mine, softly.
Remember. Or act. Or be in this moment.
And as you hold hands, what do you notice?
Do you feel the warmth of another. Do you feel joy? Does your heart speed a little.
Or a lot.
Or is that other hand cold and you reach, without thinking, with your free hand to cup it in your warmth. Do you freely give your warmth, without thinking, just acting, just doing.
Just being.
This is the language of God.
This is the heart of the Spirit.
This is what it means to be part of the Divine.
It is a truth we can give.
And it is sometimes all we can do.
And it is sometimes what we do when we do our all.
Another lovely prayer and reminder of how to provide loving support for both others AND ourselves. Such a good message, Vica.