~ Hands in movement represent life ~
I wondered if I needed revision surgery on my dominant hand. It had been a few years since I had the first surgery. I did not relish repeating the recovery process, but returning pain finally forced me to get a second opinion from another surgeon. Such a decision demanded scrutiny of a body part I had always taken for granted. As long as my hands worked properly and without pain, I didn’t give them a second thought. In the end, I chose to put my right hand in the hands of the second surgeon and trust him to fix the problem.
Hands are amazing, aren’t they? They are strong, yet delicate. They can do the most complicated surgery, pound a nail, swing a golf club, thread a needle, type a letter, perform sign language, and tenderly caress a newborn. The human hand has been designed with five metacarpals and eight carpal bones which give us the fine motor coordination we often take for granted.
We can do limitless things with our hands such as give hugs, chop wood, drive, clean, teach, nurse the sick, worship, brush teeth and trim our nails. Most importantly we feed ourselves and our babies. Funny how the most basic of tasks, usually personal in nature, can be hard to do with the non-dominant hand. I have never mastered writing with my left hand. Somehow I managed to brush my teeth and dry my hair, but it wasn’t easy. Forget putting on makeup!
If you are blessed with children think back to your first baby. Remember how curious he or she was when she discovered her fist? I remember my baby moving his fingers all around, studying them, totally fascinated. Of course, it became all the better when he realized that his fingers could help him move, pick up things, and feed himself. Hands are indeed an integral part of the marvelous human machine.
I’ve had plenty of time to study my hand while working to get my function back. During that period my thoughts quite naturally turned to my firstborn son who died by suicide some years ago. He had beautiful hands. As a grown-up, he put them to work skillfully repairing medical equipment used in the care of hospitalized children. Those same hands wiped away tears in times of sadness. Those same hands wanted so much to hold someone who would hold him back. Those same hands were the extension of a heart that longed to be happily married like his friends. Those same hands were part of a lonely heart that longed to be a parent. Those same hands will not show me his first baby, making me a proud grandma. Those same hands were connected to a heart that became so sad that he used them one last time to end his pain.
I find myself looking at my younger son’s hands. Exquisite like his older brother’s, they are especially beautiful to watch as they hug his precious twins. Hands are designed to move. To see hands in movement represent life. Hands in repose are still beautiful, but they don’t represent life. A lump comes to my throat as my mind returns to the last scene of my firstborn’s hands. Forever still.
Dear Reader, you may be thinking about your own hands or those of your children. Their beauty. Their usefulness. Perhaps you are remembering how your children held you by hand and heart. Close your eyes. Can you see the precious child or other loved one you had to say “goodbye” to? Can you visualize him or her happy, active, and planning a future? Sadly something may have come between their hands and your hopes and dreams for them or you may have used your hands to hold them as they took their last breath.
I can’t help but think of the Creator of our beautiful hands. With His hands, He held children on His lap, stroked cheeks, wiped tears, hugged, taught, and healed. He clasped His hands in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before others used their hands to drive large spikes into His beautiful hands, nailing Him to a cross. I looked down at the tiny pin in my thumb (which kept my thumb immobile after surgery) and thought my pain is so small compared to His.
Those same hands have the skill to recreate our hands perfectly for heaven. They will clasp our long-missed children and other loved ones to our breasts. They will guide us as we fly in space. In heaven, we will be perfect. Any scars we had in this life will be gone. In fact, the only reminder of our suffering on earth will be the scars in Jesus’ hands, visible throughout eternity.
Verse from The Voice (V)
Hope after Suicide 