A Christmas Gift We Can All Give

“The Little Hand“

“Last night the world grew quiet,

And life slowed down its race,

My boy, just twelve, asked once again

For comfort, touch, and grace.

For days he’d sought a simple thing —

A massage for his hand,

But I was lost in daily tasks,

Too busy to withstand.

At last, I said, “Tonight, my love,

I’ll give a special one,”

He smiled and took his place in bed,

A hot pack, music on.

I warmed the oil between my palms,

And cradled his small hand,

And in that touch, a flood broke free —

One I didn’t plan.

So tiny was his fragile palm,

So soft, so full of need,

A quiet voice inside me said:

“He’s still a child, indeed.”

At twelve, I’d asked him to be more —

Responsible and strong,

To cry less, think more like a man,

To right what he did wrong.

But as I gently stroke his hands 

I saw what I’d not seen,

A little soul, still finding light,

Still wandering between.

He’s learning how to walk through life,

Still clumsy with his steps,

Still searching for the guiding hands

On which he still depends.

That hand I held was asking me

To slow down, be aware,

To laugh more at his silly jokes,

To listen, show I care.

To watch him on the football field,

To praise each goal he makes,

To sit and play his favourite games,

No matter what it takes.

For soon that hand will not be small,

It won’t fit inside mine,

It’ll grow strong, and pull away,

And stretch beyond this time.

But now he’s here, he’s only twelve,

Still reaching out each day,

And I, his mum, must choose to pause,

Before it slips away.

So last night, as I massaged his little hand, 

And oil soothed his skin,

I felt my heart break open wide —

And let the love pour in.”

Carmen, Mother, Nurse and Volunteer with A Touch of Gentleness

Submitted by Helen Prosper, Founder of A Touch of Gentleness, on behalf of Carmen