Hands of Care

Once in Kiev, Ukraine, when knocking on doors in a typical Soviet-style apartment block house, we met a sixty-year-old woman who came to the door, started to speak to us, and then broke into tears. Oleg and I listened to her story. She spoke with confidence and then brokenness overwhelmed her. "My husband wants me to poison him. I cannot leave him alone. He is partially paralyzed and I must care for him always."

Through the open door behind her, we could hear her husband crying out to her in tearful muffled tones. Then we could hear him shuffling to the door, saying something and then breaking into tears and weeping. We asked the lady if we could come inside and speak about God to both of them. The apartment was clean with everything neatly in its place. The varnish on the wood parquet floor had worn off years ago. Old electrical appliances with old cords and plugs, like many things in the Ukraine, remind you of those glimpses of life that we got from our parents who lived their childhood in the Depression of the 930's. Linens, table clothes, tapestries, throw rugs, tables, chairs, lamps were all thread bare, dulled, discolored, worn and old.

They sat on the edge of his bed, as Oleg and I started to explain who we were and what we were doing. We spoke about Christ, God, our loving Father who cares for us. She, sitting next to him, would periodically wipe the tears from his face with her fingers and the palm of her hand. With the big, sweeping, careful and gracious movements of her large, softly padded hands, she cared for her husband.

We ministered to them and with reverential attention, they listened to the Bible. We read it, quoted it and encouraged them. He spoke, with intermittent breakdowns of tearful emotions, and then immediately came the sweeping hands and hugs of encouragement from his wife. She buried his old head quickly in her shoulder and madetender rebukes. "Stop it," she would say firmly, but with great love and care. Oleg and I sat and listened and watched. We watched every detail. This is life for these two. We were teachers and students simultaneously. We studied and loved these two people facing tough times. They were both tearful, but those hands of care represented the essence of life. Problems, yes, but life is more than these details. It seemed that behind all of it, there is love. If there is love, there is hope. If God can touch us with His hands, if God cares for us, we can make it... day by day.

Of course, He is enough. We need the simple and real solution for our lives-truth and grace. Perhaps, we will not have this or that-but are not those hands enough for the moment? Aren't God's big sweeping hands enough for us... moment by moment? May God send laborers to the white harvest fields in this world. Let us pray: "Send laborers into the harvest fields with loving hands, big sweeping hands of comfort and love."

This story appears in the book "Field Days" by Pastor Thomas P. Schaller. The book, which features a collection of stories and meditations from Pastor Schaller's days on the international field, can be ordered from Grace Publications (410) 483-3700.