I go to an alternative medicine clinic close to my home where I get a combination of treatments all geared toward making my immune system as strong as it can possibly be. They try to accomplish this in a variety of ways including acupuncture, chiropractic therapy and energy work. Truthfully, I’ve had the most trouble with accepting the energy work as a real thing and not just some voodoo waving around of the hands. I’m logical in my thinking (despite what my husband sometimes thinks) and it’s just hard for me to let go and accept this thing that I cannot see or touch. Mostly I try to just lie there and not giggle and I usually sort of pray for healing through whatever hands are touching me that day. I can’t explain it, but as I’ve given over to it more and more over these months, I am confident that something is happening. I feel better after my sessions in ways that I cannot totally explain.
Last week was my monthly appointment. When my normal energy therapist came to get me she had a new woman with her. Linda introduced us and asked if I would mind if the new employee (let’s call her Sue) worked along side her today. Of course I didn’t mind. The more the merrier in my mind. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. I could feel both of them sort of walking around me and placing their hands here and there. The new lady was a tiny little thing. She gave off this amazingly calm aura and hardly made a sound as she moved around the room. She and Linda exchanged a few words but I mostly just lay there trying to relax and receive from them whatever I was supposed to get.
I felt Sue standing by my left side with her hand on my hip and I opened one eye just enough to catch a glimpse of her hands.
Her hands were my grandmother’s hands. My Daddy’s mama that helped raise us, lived right next door to us and made the world’s best yeast rolls for every Sunday dinner for as long as I can remember. She died in 1995. We still miss her. Her hands were not beautiful in the conventional sense. Years of arthritis had made them a little lumpy and bumpy with big knuckles. They were small and worn and so soft. They should have been hard and calloused from the years of hard work she had done and the hoe that she wielded every day in the summer keeping the garden weeds at bay, but they weren’t. They were as soft as your favorite t-shirt. I’m sure she would credit the Corn Husker’s lotion she used every day, but I think God just gave her that little gift.
The hands that lay quietly on my hip were those hands. And in that moment I felt my grandmother’s presence so strongly that I half expected her to be standing there smiling down at me. But it was just Sue, standing there with her eyes closed as if she were concentrating on something very important.
Tears ran silently down into my ears as I let myself feel the love of my long gone grandmother. Sue moved to my head (still with her eyes closed) and started to place her hands on my temple when all of a sudden she said,
“Wow. You are really giving off some energy. Are you thinking of something emotional right now?”
I told her how her hands were just like my grandmother’s and how I had felt her in the room with me. She didn’t even blink. She said, “Well. When I come into a room to work with someone, I always ask my spiritual guide to help me. Sometimes other people just show up.”
I’ve often thought that I’d love to have another day or two with my grandmother. I thought that if that were to happen that I would have her make her rolls again so that we could finally get the recipe right or that I’d ask her more questions about how she and my grandfather met and other details of their life together. What I didn’t realize is that what I really needed from her was just her touch. A touch that let me know she was still with me and that it was all going to be okay.
Thank you, Grandma. Come back again sometime. I love you.