Precious Hands

I have always appreciated artwork created by children and students in a school setting. That artwork when properly and publicly displayed can transform the environment of any building.

It is not always easy to coax artwork out of a child. But, with the patience of Job and the capacity to encourage, teachers often pull this off.

On the morning of Wednesday, November 29, 2023, I was on my feet a lot.

I needed to make sure that the steam boiler for the Sanctuary was in a good mood. Elevator inspectors were scheduled to arrive for the annual checkup of our three elevators. And, I needed to revisit plans for Friday, as the final push to ready the building for the first Sunday in Advent was staring us down.

I walked through the Preschool wing, and in a couple of places recently completed student artwork was safely drying on the ancient hallway carpet.

Each square of paper featured the precious image of six green hand prints. The name of the student was taped in the upper right corner.

I’m sure capturing those priceless hand prints required careful planning and lots of instruction to ensure that the green paint didn’t coat the students and teachers. From what I saw, each piece was masterfully done with no stray smudges to detract from those irreplaceable hands.

These handprints will put a smile on the faces of parents. And who knows, maybe for just a moment those tiny fingers will push parents to pause in the chaos of Christmas. And just maybe in that quiet moment, parents will realize—time is flying, in a blink those hands will be grown.

As I gazed into the hand prints, I wondered what those hands might become. I hope they become good, compassionate, practical hands. Hands that can step back, assess, and determine—hey old world, this isn’t working, we must improve, our hands need to unite for the good of all.

Even though they are now grown, I suspect that somewhere in our old house, we might have the hand prints of our three children.

I can remember holding one of them. I sometimes felt a tiny hand patting my back. Maybe our children sensed that I am the world’s best worrier. It was like that little hand was saying—its ok Dad, things will get better.

Despite his sometimes prickly personality, Ted Williams, the former star hitter for the Boston Red Sox had a soft heart.

In Leigh Montville’s biography of Mr. Williams, the author relates a story from former Red Sox second baseman, Mike Andrews.

The famous slugger went to visit a kid who was dying. The kid grabbed one of Mr. Williams’ fingers and wouldn’t let go. Mr. Williams “pulled a cot next to him and slept there all night, the kid holding Ted’s finger.” (Montville page 345)

I wonder what pushed Mr. Williams to react in this manner?

I wonder how I would respond if I found myself in a similar situation?

Would I pull up a cot and hold that tiny finger?

The steam boiler fired up, the elevators passed inspection, and somehow our hands pulling together will guide us through Friday’s logistical needs.

And I’m thankful for the artwork hand prints I encountered this morning.

Maybe, those precious hands will help me to be better at living this quote from Maya Angelo: “I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.”