We’ve all heard the expressions ‘helping hands’ and ‘hands on.’ Both are usually more figurative than literal. But what when they mean exactly what they say? Helping hands. Hands that help. The hands that reach out and touch you, lift you, hold you. The warmth and strength is more than palpable. They transfer feelings of security, solidarity, well being and well wishes. Hands on. The nitty gritty down and dirty work that teaches you how. How to clean, how to build, how to fix. Hands on teaches the confidence to close your eyes and use your sense of touch. To use what we feel. To use our hands. When we use our hands, the potential for good or evil becomes real. The decision is ours. Do we help or hinder? With our hands. Our hands distinguish us from other primates. They make us human. Combined with emotion, they make us exceptional.
My husband had back surgery three days ago. The surgeon’s hands worked wonders in blood, flesh and bone. The pain and numbness in his legs and feet are gone, replaced by post-operative pain and stiffness. Right now he can’t bend. He can’t do much of anything at all without assistance. But he is getting better with the help of his family. The boys have taken on extra work around the house, while I play nurse. I am bathing my darling, and dressing him. Massaging out the cramps and spasms. Helping him sit and stand in order to keep from getting stiff. I arrange his cushions so he can rest. It isn’t easy. He weighs about 50 pounds more than I do. He helps as much as he can. And I am finding that this is probably the most rewarding activity in which I have had the privilege of participating in many years. The relief was evident on his face. I couldn’t do these things without using my hands. Helping, Hands ON.