Tender and soft as a newborn baby once were we. Tactile stimuli filled us with peals of delight. Fascination at learning to reach out and grasp, grasping and tossing kept us occupied and distracted until those around us tired of our innocent and sometimes messy adventures.
Calloused and stained as youth now are we. Tactile stimuli are but passing moments, disappointing annoyances, without prolonged intensity. Frustration and anger dog us until those around us keep their distance when our barking and our biting becomes harmful and dangerous.
Scarred and atrophied as adults now are we. Tactile stimuli are like the buzzing of mosquitos and flies. Evil lurks about and ready to consume us, with just one bite. Within the radius of our vision, there are those who need to be acknowledged and touched. Fear and weariness root us to the spot we occupy.
Bored and disgusted as lovers now are we. Tactile stimuli are numbing exercises that once brought pleasure and mystery. Mechanical movements physically we perform and endure while our minds wander and our hearts wither.
With Outstretched Hands, the scars cannot be hidden or denied. With Nail-Scarred Hands, Love is forever alive. With Hands of Love, grace flows were darkness haunted and filth suffocated. With Hands of Grace, healing revived and redeemed. With Hands of Healing, Truth reigns. With Hands of Truth, holiness and mercy together reside. Without these Hands, faith and trust will not thrive.