Jeffrey and I were blessed to celebrate our 21st Anniversary this week. As a special treat, Jeffrey and my Mom worked out a plan for her to take the Beauties for the weekend. We dropped them off Friday night and she returned them back to us Sunday morning. Let’s be honest, it was fantastic, decadent and very relaxing. Not that we did anything special, we stayed in all weekend did a neglected honey-do-list, slept-in and watched R-rated movies before 9 pm. While it would have been nice to go away, it was so wonderful to sleep in my own bed, and relax in my silent home!

I don’t have to do a mea-culpa, I adore my Beauties, delight in them, but we all need to re-charge and it was nice to take care of my Beloved and myself.

Added to that, with the government foolishness, Jeffrey and I have had more time together than we have had in years. It has been wonderful, we have gone out for errands and to the grocery and held hands. Holding hands is something we forget to do with kids. You are always holding theirs and I love it. But, there is something so profound about slipping your hand into the one which has held yours for years. They are rougher than they were when we met, and my hands are more inflamed, puffy and arthritic than they were at 21. But our hands still fit, beautifully.

I forgot how much I need them, to hold mine, support mine and trust in mine.

The power of touch.

The power of Touch got me thinking about how we share touches in this germ filled, technology ladened world. I’m a world renowned hugger, I will hug everyone, all the time. I’m also a kisser. Love to give a smooch as well. I’m desperate to feel connected to the world. When you touch another person in a loving, supportive and compassionate way, you are meeting God. You are witness to the true light in all of us.

The power of touch exists all around us and we often miss it. I have it with each of my doctors, beyond the hugs I give them all. There is a ritual of our exams, there is a predictable pattern that they follow, a dance of touch if you will. I could name each of my doctors blindfolded on just how they place the stethoscope on my chest. There is a space for God in them. Perhaps that is the real reason I have unconsciously cut some loose, when they fail at the most basic of tests, the simply gentle physical exam. Their touch didn't touch me. I didn't feel the connections, to me to us, to the Divine. I don’t need to ask any of my doctors about their faith, they all have it, they are all connected to God in whatever way they believe, because they believe in the power of their healing touch.

As parents our children can’t escape our touch, the hugs, the kisses, the brushing of hair, the fixing of clothes... It’s profound. I felt it when the children got out of my mom’s car. They squealed and tore out of the car for a hello Mom hug. I needed it as much as they did. To feel those growing arms around me, to feel the little heart beating against mine. To just breathe in their little smell, that Momma bear feeling...

That is my task for the week.

To touch.

To really get in there and give that gift of the Divine to another, to give of myself. To prove that I walk the walk. The power of touch.

The Divine in me bows to the Divine in you.

Namaste,

Kathryn

photo credit: nic snell via photopin cc