Sometimes healing comes in the form of technologies to fix what is broken—surgeries, medications, therapies of all sorts. But sometimes healing comes simply from a loving presence who will hold you in the brokenness.
How do you offer a healing hand?
4 thoughts on “Healing Hands”
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Healing hands can be a continual process. At this time I have two friends who have Parkinson’s disease. The seriousness is that it is progressively damaging and without a cure. Both live with uncertainty…of this progressive loss of use of their bodies. I also have two blind friends who function on their own in their home. All of these people, I believe, live with adjusting to the general world. My healing hand to them is one of reaching out to them to include them as much as possible to that world. I’ve learned to accommodate to their frailties (often not apparent to others) and, with them, acknowledge these, hopefully in a kind and sometimes comical way. “Hey, Rick, (visual) do you want to drive today or should I?” He’s always there with a comical response. I hope this gives him a sense that we are friends no matter what… on the road of life together.
I was in my therapy session last week. Apropos of nothing, my therapist asked if I’d seen my best friend lately. I said it’d been two weeks. She said, “yeah, you seem really stressed out.”
My best friend and I do a lot for each other’s well-being. We’ve been together nearly 4 years, and seen each other through the worst, including the sudden but not unexpected death of his mother. We talk through the tough stuff, and we eat great food and enjoy cultural outings. He was diagnosed with bipolar last fall during a crisis, and I’ve had it at least since my teens, so now I am kind of his sherpa on this trip, and it’s brought us even closer. We each will admit we’d be kind of screwed without each other.
In a literal sense, his are the healing hands that can fix my shoulders when they’re sore and tense.
Over a space of 14 years, I was able to offer healing hands in many ways. As a caregiver I recorded and played relaxation music and my Mom’s preferred music. Took favourite placemat and teacup & saucer & treats for a special tea for two in the cafeteria on Mother’s Day. Sang, held hands, provided soothing lotion, gave haircuts when she no longer could go to the hairdresser, brought comfortable clothes and soft comforters in her favourite colours. Tried to make her corner of the institution as much like “home” as possible. Took her out in the fresh air. Explained things she needed to know gently and gave massages. In her last days, I scooped up the things that made her feel at home and took them to the hospital and escorted her out of this world just as she had escorted me in – with love and care.
Lovely way to ease the departure for both of you. I too saw my mother out of this life for her comfort and ease.