A few nights ago I dreamed of my Mother's hands. Her long slender fingers draped over a chair arm. Why I dreamed such a thing I don't know. Maybe I just miss them, her, or maybe it was brought on by spending time with my older sister who seems to have captured the very structure of my mother's hands in her own. I find it a strange thing to dream of but as I sit here collecting my thoughts, I realize that maybe there is comfort and a purpose for it.
My thoughts turn to Jesus's hands and the disciples. I wonder if they memorized His hands like I did my mother's. Did they trace the scars with their fingers and remember the trauma brought on by the journey of the Cross? Did they stare at His hands the way I now gaze at my sisters? After the ascension did they dream of the hands that turned the water in to wine and healed blind eyes. Did they dream of the hands that touched the lame and suffered the little children?
When the disciples were left with the mandate to take the Gospel to all the world did they think back to those hands and wish they still had the ability to witness the strength that they possessed and the guidance that they offered? Did dreams of those hands offer comfort for their souls and strength for their spirit?
My mind shifts to the Ministry Center and the transfers from one hand to another that I witness each day. A chicken sandwich and a cold bottle of water slips from one young hand to the weathered hand of another in the lobby. A motherly hand grabs the shaking hands of another as they seek the Man who made a way for us all in the case managers office. The unkempt hands of a homeless man passing a can of tuna to the aged hands of a volunteer to place in their shopping cart as they make their way through the Storehouse.
The power that coursed through Jesus' hands 2000 year's ago made it's way to my Mother's hands as she clasped my own and squeezed just a little when I was younger, just letting me know it was going to be alright. That power is still at work today transferring from one hand to another as food and sustenance and survival move freely from those that have to those that don't. Guidance, comfort, love, belonging. healing and salvation...the very embodiment of the hands of Jesus flowing out to creation that He came to earth for.
35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
I get to witness these things because the power in His hands has touched the lives of volunteers and donors...business owners and grandmas and broken people like me. He has touched us with those nail scarred hands and it compels us to reach out from the safety of our own circles and touch the unknown. So often what we don't realize is that we are touching Him.
The CMC staff love to write and enjoy telling the story of the Ministry Center in our own unique way.
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