“The LORD will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands.” Deuteronomy 28:12
The power of the hand. It moves in every minute, even fidgets in a restless sleep. It occupies the air and space around us. Its fingers direct or count. Those fingers are the spokes of its core, sculpting, reaching for Kleenex, opening a carton of milk, dressing a wound.
Hands toil and wipe tears. They mine the soil and scrub the clothes. They do hard work and they do soft work. They get dry and cracked and burned from the sun. Over time they age and spot. They hold arthritis, and don’t function as freely as before. So one looks at the hand to direct or coax it in one way or another, but it doesn’t go the way it once did.
And so we depend on another’s set of hands–a CNA’s clutch of a toothbrush, the squeeze of toothpaste across the bristles, the gentle handing of it to a resident, positioning it just so, the CNA closing the resident’s frail hand around it so that her dignity is restored as she brushes her own teeth, up and down, up and down, like when she was young, the motion familiar, normal, real.
God bless the hands.
Dearest Lord: We thank you for our nursing team, and their empathetic choice to be one. We thank you for who they are and we thank you for their determined hands of care, hope and love.
Dianne Timmering, EMBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality
Signature Consulting Services, LLC