My Hands, My Story, My Truth
My Hands, Let go by biological Hands at the age 6 months, leaving these tiny Hands bewildered, lost, and afraid and on one particular day, very embarrassed. Never understanding why. Always too afraid to ask, yet no judgment. Another pair of Hands reached out where the other hands let go to offer safety, comfort and love, yet by whose standard? Certainly not the State Department for Foster Children. Adopted never-the-less. Hidden agenda, maybe? Again too afraid to ask. A little judgment but maybe not fair?
Years pass, those tiny Hands become very vulnerable, confused, needy, displaced and rebellious. Along come those Hands lurking and ready to pounce. They come with betrayal, lies and deception written all over them. However, these now young adult Hands are only paying attention to how good the attention feels, “Wow this is different and feels good too! Come, I trust you”… to hold these Hands. These Hands give those hands love from deep within. False love, so it turns out. Well what did these hands know? Nothing to reference, yet not so innocent in all of this. Little did these Hands know what was in store for them.
These Hands begin to slowly wake up but still so confused and lost. By now it’s too late because faster than the speed of lightening, come four beautiful tiny innocent Hands and then four more beautiful tiny innocent Hands. All these Hands! Help me! Now what? What have I done? What am I doing? Here’s what! Love those tiny Hands, feed those tiny Hands, clothe those tiny Hands, house those tiny Hands, and keep those tiny Hands clean and as innocent as possible! Protect those 8 beautiful tiny innocent hands! What? How? These two hands can’t even protect themselves! Provide, Provide, Provide for those Hands! What? With only these two Hands alone? How is it possible? With What? Will someone tell me! Somebody, anybody? These Hands are saying, “Please Help Me”! Guess not! No one listening!
Oh wait, here come two strong Hands ready to embrace these vulnerable hands, lurking and sneaking and sniffing around. Gotcha, they say. Those hands go where they have NO BUSINESS GOING, leaving all 10 hands scarred almost beyond repair! Leaving these two Hands drenched in anguish, shame, blame and guilt. These Hands wiped away enough tears to fill an ocean. These Hands wanted to drown in that very ocean of tears! These Hands wanted to Die but these Hands fought hard not to break. These Hands said “Push, push through this. Fight hard!”
These Hands bounced back, spoke to those who would listen without judgment. Maybe? Asked for forgiveness but for who’s Hands? What? For these hands, those hands, ALL FOUR Hands? These hands were left ANGRY and Betrayed but not surprised! These Hands still said, “Don’t give up. There is no time.” We can make it! We have to! Don’t panic! Sorry, already panic stricken.
These Hands knew they needed to get busy and get busy fast. These Hands had no time for nonsense. These hands said to everyone, even to those 8 beautiful tiny hands, “get out of my way, don’t you see how busy these Hands are?” Many times these Hands silently (maybe not so silently) screamed to those 8 beautiful tiny innocent hands, “Leave me alone! Call to those Hands that are also responsible for this fucking mess.”
These hands were Bitter, Frustrated and Tormented but they never stopped working. These hands scrubbed dirty toilets, changed soiled diapers of other women’s babies, signed recertification’s’ for welfare benefits, signed for financial aid checks, and signed papers for section 8 housing. Fingers flipping through pages and dialing phone numbers for resources, just to name few. These Hands cleaned offices, these hands babysat, long hours, long week-ends! These hands grocery shopped for others with disdain and jealousy because these hands could not afford to purchase the healthy and better foods for those 8 beautiful tiny innocent hands. These Hands got sick of hearing, Provide! Provide! Provide!
These hands needed a rest!!! But they wouldn’t stop! These hands pounded on key boards in a frenzy to complete homework assignments to obtain a higher education. These Hands applied for one, two, three and four jobs at a time. These Hands got one, two, three, and four jobs and worked them ALL! All in the name of financial stability for all 10 HANDS! Reap, Reap, Reap said these two Hands to those 8 beautiful tiny innocent Hands. Are you listening? Do you get it?
These Hands went back to school for more education while now flipping through pages of resources for those that were vulnerable due to domestic violence abuse, child abuse and mental illness. They needed These Hands! These Hands went from being Stubborn, Bitter, Frustrated, Tormented and Cocky to Confident, Assertive and Determined yet Very, Very tired! These Hands were too tried to even enjoy putting the key into the door of the very first home purchased. These Hands were Numb! These hands knew they could no longer do it alone. These hands were ready to concede.
These Hands realized that they had chosen the wrong hands to reach out to. These hands realized that the Hands of God were the hands that should have been reached for all along. To believe is one thing but to act on that belief brings salvation. Those Hands were always there, lurking, waiting and hoping to be reached for. When These Hands finally reached out, these hands were sent a pair of strong, loving, compassionate, hard working and honest hands. Those hands made a commitment to these hands and promised to never let go! These hands finally feel safe, can love and be loved!
I now have 10 + Hands to hold onto until it’s time to let go. My Hands, My story! My Truth! Do you want to hold These Hands? Look at your hands, I’m certain there is a story. I would love to listen to the story of your HANDS!
OMH Writer's Workshop participants.