So much of what we experience is through touch. A baby discovers the world through tactile feel. A mother’s hands gently gather her baby in to nourish and comfort in the warmth of her arms.

A friend extends hands to secure a hug; a lover caresses the softness of affection. Hands enable the laborer to work, the accountant to count, a caregiver to serve, an artist to weave, create and splay colors of light.

I have often wrestled with identifying what is more important the gift of sight or hearing? But now, I contemplate how our hands are involved in every movement, moment to moment. Whether, to pen our name or turn a page, a key to unlock, a lather when washing, the kneading of bread, turning earth in our garden; our hands are our means.

In a handshake of hospitality or a pat on the back, the flick of a switch or the might of a fist, a gesture unto heaven, a rising up prayer, they sweep up fallen pieces and in darkness they reach before us to guide our way. 

From generation to generation, hands have waved to acknowledge our leave taking and to welcome us home. Our hands enable us to give and receive and to share our love. Their lines and tributaries grow deeper with age, know stories we have yet to live and encourage us to extend beyond ourselves for the sake of others.

Caregivers offer their hands in healing as they honor the sacredness in all beings. Hands bless and express caring; for truly our hands are a gift beyond measure.

I hope you enjoy this splendid reflection by an illuminating soul, Renate Hiller. Increasingly vibrant at age 85, she is the former co-director of the Fiber Craft Studio at the Threefold Educational Center in Chestnut Ridge, New York.

Liz Sorensen Wessel