I believe it was Henri Nouwen who once said, “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.”

Oh, my goodness – now, isn’t that the truth?

As I sit here, I can think to at least a half dozen times where a friendly hand has literally lifted me from the floor.

There is something which happens in those crumbly, heart-wrenching moments – something which transcend that which even the most awakened of hearts may, at first, understand.

It is a restoration of faith, of promise – a laying of hope against the new path ahead. And within that touch, a subtle warmth – with the capacity to shift even the most seemingly impossible of demands.

“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion,” he writes. “who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

And, what a blessed revelation this morning to realize – I have so many tender hands waiting for me right here.

When I first started writing, I thought, “If I could be a source of hope for just one person, then I will have succeeded.”

I never realized the community that might grow, from a simple wish of compassion and healing.

Indeed, with these two tender hands…

We can dig wells, and build houses – offering care to those in need. We can devise the means to bring comfort to the ‘wounded’, to alleviate the suffering of our fellow man.

With these two hands…

We can write books or create music or fashion brilliant works of art – inspiring hope to even the most impoverished of souls.

With these two hands, my dearest darlings…

We might create a space for loving-kindness, and one day change this world.

With just these two tender hands… <3