Holding Hands With God

"I, the Lord, have grasped you by the hand. 

I formed you and set you as covenant of the people, 

a light for the nations to open the eyes of the blind,

to bring prisoners out from confinement

and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness."

- Isaiah 42

      The wind was blowing my curly hair every which way and the ocean was spraying its salt spit at my face. The sun was now a bright orange circle just above the horizon, something I watched form from somewhere on the expressway. The sand was cold between my toes and it was starting to drizzle. My glasses were sitting on my messy, salted hair and my eyes were closed when I felt the gentle hand of my dear sister on my shoulder. All around us were the retreat girls and the other sisters giggling or running down the beach. I looked her in the eyes and smiled; I felt a humility in my heart. She began to tell me how much she loved me as we walked arm and arm down the beach. To anyone else, the woman appeared as a grandmother walking next to me (as we share the same very curly hair). To me, she was my sister, not just my Sister, but my sister.

     As the wind and the rain picked up, we walked to take shelter in the lifeguard stand. Of course, for someone who had had double knee replacements, this was a feat to be had. So, I got up first, and then with all the strength I could fathom, pulled her up. Together, we sat. Literally, we just sat there in the quiet and let ourselves simply be. Eventually, she took my hands in hers and opened them. She then simply placed them in my lap and said, "Always pray with open hands, Bec. Always." This was two Summers ago. From that moment on, I, without a doubt, always pray with my hands open. 

     After our prayer on the beach, the whole group of us headed to Mass at a church so familiar to me from my childhood. We sat next to each other, giggling like little girls as the pews creaked with every move we made. After finally calming ourselves, we settled in, with hands wide open in our laps, and listened to the readings for the day. The reading was the above reading from Isaiah 42. This reading came back to remind me of the reason why I must pray with my hands open yesterday as it was the first reading for Monday of Holy Week. Needless to say, I got a little nostalgic in remembering the day at the beach so clearly.

      Sister Virginia, after Mass that day at the beach, sat back for a few minutes with me in our pew. She told me to close my eyes and leave my hands open as she read the few lines from Scripture above. It hit me. I got it. I understood. She told me that without my hands open, how could God grasp them. If I pray with my hands folded all the time, there is no room for God to literally take hold of my hands. Just as a person cannot give a hug with his or her arms folded, a person cannot have her hands held unless they are open. She continued by telling me that in praying with open hands, it is a physical image of me being open to whatever God wants to give me. A person cannot receive a gift if her hands are folded or balled up in fists. No, in order to receive all that God wants to give me, I must say to Him with my heart and my body that I am open. My hands are open for You, God, to place whatever it is You wish in my them. My heart is open and my hands are open. I am allowing You, God, the opportunity to GRASP my hands, to HOLD them tight, and to LEAD me wherever it is I must be led. 

      When I think back to that memory of the beach, I remember how much it changed my heart. I called Sister Virginia today to tell her that I was simply thinking of her yesterday and praying for her. She taught me a lot that day, more than just how to pray with openness. She taught me that in opening my hands, a seagull might decided that it's the perfect place to go after breakfast. She taught me that some people might take my hands and later let go. She taught me that my hands will help the elderly, the poor. They will get dirty, they will get rough, they will build houses, they will wipe away tears, they will touch hearts and souls. My hands, my being open, will do all that Christ would do if He walked this earth again. Just as in my most favorite prayer of all time by Teresa of Avila, mine are the hands and feet of Christ. But honestly the best part about learning to be open like this, is knowing full well that I am open to holding anyone's hands.

     I guess that's why I am such a hand holder. Even if I am simply walking with a friend down the street, I am most likely going to take their hand. This is why I hold the older sisters' hands when I visit them or simply am just saying hello. Being open to holding hands is so important for me because I am convinced that in the other hand, is the hand of God. In the hands of the children I play with like my sister or Caleigh and Meghan, in the hands of my Mommom, in the hands of my older Sisters at Camilla or the Mount, in the hands of my Daddy, in the hands of my peers during the Our Father at Mass, in the hands of anyone willing to place their hand in mine, is the hand of God. 

     I am brought to a more recent memory of my hands. Just two weekends ago, during SEARCH, it snowed (seriously...the snow....ugh). Snow, while I love it, also gives me reason to worry. You see, my biggest worry is that it will ice over and the sisters will fall. Honestly, that's my biggest fear. So, in the snow and ice, I was a little more than worried about Sister Cathy falling. Despite the fact that being clumsy is usually my job, I was worried about her simply slipping. You see, if you fall there, it's all down hill from there....literally. One slip and you're down the mountain. Anyway, so I offered my hand. And by the good grace of God, she took it. So, needless to say, Sister Cathy and I did a lot of precious hand-holding that weekend. But there was something different about holding hands with her. You see, she wasn't simply holding my hand for support on the ice, she was literally grasping it, as if she really was depending on my hand. 

     She put that line in Isaiah into true perspective for me. God said he has grasped my hand. Not merely held it, but rather, grasped it. Literally took hold of my now forever open hands as if He depended on it. And the truth is, so many people in my life have depended on my hands. Sister Virginia taught me a lot that day on the beach. But it all starts with being open. If we are not open, if our hands are not open and willing to accept all that God has in store for us, He cannot hold us; He cannot grasp our hands and make us light for those in darkness.