A Hand to Hold

I recently took a position as a caretaker for a teenager with special needs. The folks whose son I have been caring for have become good friends of mine. Before I was hired, I heard their frustration, desperation, and despair in finding someone that would care for their son and allow them breaks that consisted of a few hours at a time from the full attention their son requires. Let me start by saying that I realize my experience is just from a few weeks of consistently spending time with H(for respect of the family I will use H as his name), I can only imagine the realizations and insight folks who have spent months, years or decades doing this type of work.

So, basically the biggest time frame I am with H is on Saturdays. I pick him up from his home at 9 am and return around 3 pm. The idea is to promote community integration by going in the community and working on structured goals that H's family and I have agreed to. To start, as I pull up, H is in the bay window facing the street peering out waiting for me to arrive. Claps and loud screams can be heard as I approach the door. His excitement makes putting his shoes on a more difficult task than normal. As we leave he gives hugs to his parents and we are on our way. Some of his goals include opening his own car door and buckling himself, which he has shown progress through the weeks I have had him. Generally we go to one of two places. The mall or the park. The goal is to find somewhere we can walk and be in the community. H can walk on his own, but most of the time he prefers to hold your hand. At first it can be cool, I was reminded of holding my parents and grandparents hand as a kid, or when I used to hold the hand of my girlfriend in middle and high school. Then there are times when our hands get sweaty, H squeezes too tight, or it's just plain difficult to hold hands while I walk in front of or behind him due to space limitations in the aisle or walkway. Inevitably if I break free from holding hands, he reaches out to me, not stopping until our hands are united. Here is where my spiritual "A-ha" moment came to me. H is much more spiritual than me. You see, I can read the latest book, or even the Greatest Book (the Bible), but inevitably I end up breaking my hand free from God's. Much like H, I can walk without holding the Hand. But also much like H when he isn't holding someone's hand I am much more prone to lose my balance and possibly fall. There are times when I am walking with H, and he wants to go a different direction. Sometimes it is off the paved walk way in the park, and sometimes it's into the Women's restroom (H doesn't knowingly do this). When this happens I re-direct his attention and subtly guide him to where we need to go. Ever been to that place with God? I know I have. However I may rationalize and justify the action, there are times when I know God's hand is pulling me to where I need to be. The thing of it is, when I tell people that I work with H, they often praise me for being patient and compassionate, which is very kind of them. What I think many fail to see is that I am learning and growing so much as the result of working with H. And as much as I can pontificate and wonder about my relationship with God and where He is leading me, there is also the physical side of this, I feel I have to be "holding hands" with those whom God places in my life. As I look back over my life, I am saddened by my failures to hold the hand of those who have loved me. It seems those I love the most I am the most impatient with. Those I love the most, I hold forgiveness over them as if it were an unattainable prize. Those I love the most I have mouthed words that have incredible hurt behind them. When I look at all of these actions and the pain I have for having done them, it can seem to be too much to overcome. Then I remember what H and God have taught me, all I gotta do is hold hands. When I want to run away for fear of being hurt, hold hands. When I want to yell and scream because I don't feel like talking gently will convey my emotions, hold hands. When I want to hold on to resentments, I must empty my hands in order to hold your hand.

It is so simple, yet so hard. My heart is full of gratitude for God, H, and all those who have held my hand, even when I tried to run away...