Thursday, May 5, 2011
Thursday Thank You Notes
It is strange how many of my heartfelt thank yous stem from the short six months when I was sick. Only it didn't seem short at all.
It felt interminable.
Sometimes, right in the midst of it, I would wonder, "Am I imagining this? Is this all in my head?" Because I did not understand how a person could be so ill. I tried to tell myself that it was all in my head, just to see if I could miraculously rebound.
I really tried every trick. I was Houdini, looking for any impossible escape.
But there was no escape but time and endurance. And when I realized that I cried.
And do you know what I remember about you? What I will always remember about you?
More specifically, your touch.
During that time, people rarely touched me. Even my family was frightened was touch me. But your motherly hands always found me.
You would reach out and take my frail, bruised hand, even when it was blue from failed IVs, and you would hold it.
When they wouldn't let me out of my bed in the hospital even to wash my face or hair, I cried to the nurses and begged them to wash my hair.
They said nothing could be done.
But you came and took my oily, unkempt hair and braided it with your gentle hands.
You knew that it still mattered.
You knew that I still wanted to look like I belonged to civilization, even if I didn't feel it.
When I was so lonely that my ribs ached I would stroke those braids and remember that someone was still willing to touch me and love me and help me.
Oh shoot, the memory of your hands just got me crying. I have to stop and mop up.
Valiant, I will never forget what your unhesitating touch meant to me. When I minister the sick I will always touch them. When they are dirty or oily or in pain, I will touch them like you touched me.
I will not cringe or shrink away from their suffering because I learned from you how to do it right. How to be human.
I learned that sometimes when you reach out and stroke a feeble hand, you heal a broken heart.
Thank you forever.
I love you.