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.
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.