I have always thought my mother’s hands were beautiful.  And they are.  Is it possible that they could be even more beautiful now, at age 94?  To me, they are exquisite.  But that is not nearly the most important thing.  They are the hands that have shown her deep love for my brother and me.  They are the hands I can still hold and feel the currents of her tenderness flow onto mine.

Her hands have kept me safe and secure since I was born.  Memories of her catching me before I fell, holding me in a deep hug, touching my face and drying my tears will never leave me.  I remember her holding my hand as we walked together, even as I grew older, because I wanted her close to me.

Her hands bathed me as a baby, cooked for me, fed me and tucked me into bed.  She showed me how to pray with her hands on mine.  She still rubs my back when I am sad and she listens without saying a word.  Instead, she gives comfort with her hands.  She is a gift from God.

Today, as I touch her hands, so soft and smooth, and full of tenderness, I am so grateful.  They comfort me still.  I want to keep them forever warm in my heart, where they will be felt with each memory I have of her when she is no longer here to physically warm mine.  We hold hands regularly as we sit together and talk these days.  These days are so special as I am with her as she was with me as I was growing up.  Now we are growing old together hand in hand in this journey we call life.  If she gets to heaven before I do, I know she will be waiting to reach out and touch me again with her beautiful, loving hands.

In my life thus far, I have known several people who kept three different wardrobes of clothing in their closets.  When I discovered this, I just didn’t get it.  But now, I can understand the logic.  Some of us, including me, tend to think of ourselves as being at an acceptable weight at most times in our lives.  When we are at a certain (healthy) weight, we may think we will stay that way.  But this is not necessarily so. 

When I was growing up, I always thought I was of normal weight and didn’t even think about it.  Then, as a teenager I changed. I began to care, but I didn’t obsess about it.  I went through periods of feeling I needed to lose weight but didn’t really want to actually diet.  I didn’t take it that seriously.

When I was away at college, my friends and I decided to diet together.  We all wanted to lose a few pounds. So we counted calories and we all lost weight and felt great.  It was made easier by the fact that we walked everywhere.  That was when I was my thinnest.  Later I weighed a bit more, but felt I was at a healthy weight.

While raising my kids, and working, I stayed the same most of the time.  I would buy some bigger clothes when I needed them, then give them away when I lost weight again.  Different life changes and dramatic events, especially emotional ones, caused my weight to go up or down accordingly.  Menopause was one of them.  Don’t worry, I won’t write about that.

But now, I think that it would have really been useful to keep some of my old clothes in different sizes.  Just a few outfits in either direction would have helped and I wouldn’t  have had to wear clothes that were too tight or too loose, depending on my particular weight at that time.  If you only have one size of clothing, you might find yourself with that problem.

Yup.  Now I get it.  I have to say that three wardrobes is a very good idea.  What do you think?

We live on an uneven playing field.  We know this.  And if we fit in or onto the playing field perfectly, we do not necessarily see how uneven it can be for others.  If we are in a position where we don’t need to know, we may be totally unaware that this uneven field even exists for other people.  Herein lies the problem.  What we don’t know can make it hard to level the field.  Where do we begin to change the playing field for those that don’t fit in?  If a person realizes the problem, then that is where we can start. 

I have mentally struggled with this situation for a very long time.  I know that there will always be people poorer and richer than myself, and I accept that because I have been fortunate to have enough of what I needed.  However, it’s important to recognise when you have an advantage over another person.  Just because something has always been a certain way, that doesn’t mean that it can’t be made better. If something is unfair, that doesn’t mean that we can’t do anything about it.  It doesn’t matter where a person lies on the spectrum of talent, ability, wealth or beauty, there are always those who intrinsically have more advantages and those who have distinct disadvantages.

I feel that the problem is that most of us are comfortable with where we are as long as we have enough.  Enough can be about health, income, food, shelter, or abilities.  Some people have disabilities that make it difficult or even conceivable to have enough.  That’s where it is possible to be a part of the solution.  If one is able to offer a job to someone, or collect food for a food bank or make things more accessible to those who need those kinds of help, I believe we are called to do so.  And there are so many other positive things that can be done. 

The fact that the field is so very far from perfect, means that we need to work together.  It takes many people from all walks of life to do what they can.  Collective effort makes progress possible.  The process is difficult.  But little steps will turn into miles if enough of us want to make life easier for those who have to climb the hill to level ground.  That can be the beginning of change.  And that matters.

Over 20 years ago, I was gently admonished by a wonderful man.  Reverend KIrk was the leader of an organization in which I participated.  He was a very tall man, with a beautiful smile and a loving presence.  He was the head of a group of community leaders, many of them pastors, that came together after a tragedy.  It was a very diverse group, with congregations of all faiths in the community.  It was formed as a reaction to racially motivated murders that had taken place.  In the aftermath of this tragedy, people were moved to act in a positive way, by joining forces to deal with this horrific event.

To be in contact with all these wonderful people gave me a sense of peace and possibility.  But it is Reverend Kirk who taught me a lesson I will never forget.  It was about the word “lucky.”  I was talking to him and used that word to describe how grateful I was about something.  I don’t remember what it was about.  But, I remember what he said.  It was simple.  You are not lucky, you are blessed.

Those simple words affected me dramatically.  I wasn’t really thinking about the meaning of lucky.  It was just something people said when something good happened, and I was one of them.  

I decided to look it up.  Here is Merriam-Webster’s definition:

1 : having good luck. 2 : happening by chance : fortuitous. 3 : producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable. 4 : seeming to bring good luck, a lucky rabbit’s foot.

Check out numbers 2 and 3.  Notice the word “chance” in both definitions.  This cinches the real meaning of lucky.  It refers to just being in the right place at the right time.  Using this word took God out of the equation.  Luck is happenstance.  Blessing is a gift, a grace.

I had never considered the use of this word as being important enough to question its validity.  What I found out was that by using the word “lucky,” I was diminishing the good that was being given to me.  This did not jive with my beliefs.  He simply taught me a lesson that makes me so grateful to him.  He has passed on and I miss his presence.  But he is still with me in a way. I think of him every time I hear the word “lucky.”  I was blessed to know him.  Luck had nothing to do with it.

I have always enjoyed meeting new people.  I really love to learn about those who are different than I am.  There is so much to gain by making friends in all walks of life.  It helps when people try to understand the world around them. It broadens our perspectives.

I truly feel that if people would try to get to know each other on a personal level in our daily lives, that the problems we all have could be lessened in our own lives.  But, of course, that requires a reason or a mutual interest by way of introduction.  That’s where the challenge lies.  Many people are not comfortable in these situations.

I have experienced encounters where my friendliness was not appreciated or wanted.  But there can be many reasons for a person to react in this way.  That’s why I try not to let it bother me.  Sometimes, if I just back off a little, but still act friendly, a person will come around and we will even become friends.  Also, it could be that the other person was just having a bad day and was acting uncharacteristically.  I find that it is always worth it to stay open to new relationships.   

Meeting new people requires a willingness to take a chance.  With all the negativity around us, we really need to find positive ways to interact with one another.  Sometimes, it seems that these situations have to be created with so much polarization in our environments. Prejudices have a role in this.  There are many reasons for people to be wary of a stranger.

None of this has discouraged me from meeting new people.  Meeting people who are different than I am always attracts me.  But that kind of openness can make people wary too.  It can make some folks wonder “Why does she want to know me?  Is she going to try to sell me something?”  I think that’s because being friendly can be intrusive to some people.  It all depends on the previous experiences in a person’s life.   

Nevertheless, I will continue to enjoy meeting new people as long as I remain aware of the world around me.  It is always worth my time and energy to connect with people.  It’s just who I am.