Yesterday after a minor medical procedure1, the doctor (whom I’d met for all of 30 seconds before being wheeled into the OR) stopped by my bed to check in and give me an update. As he said his goodbye, he reached down, cupped my socked and sheet-covered foot in his hand and gave it a tender squeeze in the kindest way, like a loving Father. Like a loving Grandfather. He said something kind like “take care”, or some similar sentiment—a detail that has been lost in the post-anesthesia haze.
I’ve forgotten his specific parting words, but I can clearly recall how that kind foot-squeeze made me feel.
As someone who has suffered some medical trauma at the hands of care-less medical people, my guard is usually up in these kinds of moments. Self-protection is instinctual. Some of us take the fool-me-once approach to life and are unwilling to knowingly subject ourselves to situations where we’ve been harmed. Medical trauma complicates this however, because most medical care is sought in times of necessity. We must repeatedly risk encounters with medical professionals who may, or may not “take care” of us. Medical trauma literally adds injury to injury which is a cruelness all its own. But, this is not that story.
Between the gentle (but resolute) grandmotherly nurse who finally got my IV in after multiple nurses had tried and failed, and this doctor who offered a small but profound act of tenderness upon my departure, I experienced the kindness of God in that little medical bay yesterday, and I was reminded of something I’ve been thinking about often lately, and that is, how the smallest kindnesses can cover a world of hurt, and our desperate need to stay soft towards one another.
It has always been true that one need not go looking for heartbreak because if you live long enough, it will find you all on its own. Some are born right into it. This is neither news nor surprise. Jesus warned us that we would always have trouble2, and lo, this has never felt more true than during the last few weeks years.
One of the treasures I brought home with me from a retreat a few weeks ago was the undeniable value—the insistent need—that we have to stay connected to each other, in-person, face-to-face, despite the risk of being hurt. The fool-me-once approach can be wisdom but it can also be twisted into excuse when we wield it to keep ourselves away from community.3
I feel like we should be at the point culturally where we can all agree that the social experiment we call “social media” is an insufficient replacement for face-to-face interaction with one another. Has it only yielded rotten fruit—no—but is it better than gathering in the same room with real people—also no.
The doctor yesterday could have been another perpetrator of harm in my story. he could have been detached, or cruel, or unsympathetic or careless, as if I were just another faceless body on a table. He could have ignored my concerns, or been condescending but instead he paused, looked at me, touched my foot, and for a split second saw me as a person, vulnerable and in need of his expertise and care. His one simple gesture healed a little something in me that other medical professionals have broken.
The Gospels are full of stories about how Jesus encountered people, how he stopped, how he saw them, how he touched their bodies and healed something in them. This wasn’t just His way of interacting with others, it’s also His invitation for us to learn to do the same. To move slower, to see one another, to listen—even if we can’t fix their pain or situation. Some of us may not have experienced the power of healing another person through a touch, or by praying words of healing over them, but I wonder if we might be able to help one another heal by showing up, by being present, by acknowledging each other, face-to-face. I wonder if, in this moment of time, the miracles Jesus claims are available to us, begin with us being IN community, with us staying in community, with us building community—beyond the screen.
We use the online tools we have for the benefits they offer—staying connected to long-distance friends and family or offering workshops and sharing conversation in real time with those not in close proximity—but let us not giving up meeting together as some are in the habit of doing.4 Let us not give up pausing, seeing one another, and taking hold of a hand (or foot) and giving a gentle squeeze that acknowledges the other as a real, live person with actual feelings. Let us be softer and more tender towards one another.
Who knows what redemption might be offered in that kind presence. Who knows what ‘multitude of sins” might be healed by a gentle, face-to-face encounter with one another.
Join me Friday, October 24 at 10AM Eastern for a FREE “Art Break” mini-workshop. We’ll spend 30-40 minutes doing a little process art together. If you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, anxious, weary, or navigating grief, this invitation is designed with you in mind. This mini workshop will be hosted over Zoom (yes, I see the irony including this invitation here). Save this link to join. This workshop is FREE!
WE ARE GATHERING IN-PERSON!! Join me for a beautiful, Creative weekend workshop February 6-7, 2026. This event last year was incredible, and I can’t wait to see you again (or for the first time!)
Local Columbus Ohio friends, join me for an IN-PERSON Advent themed Art Journal-making workshop. Yes, I know I’m talking about Christmas before Halloween, so sorry. You’re welcome.
I feel like I have to write the longest footnote ever here with all the caveats around fleeing from abuse and knowing when it’s time to absolutely leave a community that is causing harm, and by “community” I mean, family, friends, churches, institutions, etc. And by “harm” I mean, hurt, abuse, mistreatment, bullying, indoctrination, etc. Reader, don’t hear me saying that we ought to stay, no matter what.
Hebrews 10:25
* Maya Angelou said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
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