The Power of Touch

The tension tumbles from her tiny, boney shoulders. My mother, struggling from afflictions too many to count, still gives a beautiful smile of welcome and voices her concern for my well-being—not hers—whenever I come to visit. Practical matters handled and conversation exhausted, I then gently massage her scalp with my fingers and watch her body go limp with delight.
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Before they moved to assisted living, our family cycled through a series of helpers to care for my mother and, on a basic level, for my father with Alzheimer’s. One day, I came over and found Crystal kneeling in front of my dad, her hands working a pumice stone vigorously to smooth his shockingly neglected feet—reminiscent of a Galilean who had once humbled Himself to tend the feet of His friends.

I am fortunate to work with my husband, where we spend most of our day independently busy, even emailing from the next office to ask a quick question. From time to time, he’ll pause what he’s doing to come up behind me and massage my shoulders for a moment and I melt. Sometimes it is I who visits, dropping a kiss on the top of his head and sliding my hand gently along his arm in silent affection.
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When other languages of love come up short, never underestimate the power of touch. A simple, caring touch can transcend words to speak love that goes straight to the heart.