His hand could have held on

to all the wonders of heaven

the glory and good things we can hardly imagine…

But it didn’t

His hand let go of all of that and gave it up

to come down and to be one of us

His hand was a baby’s hand with tiny fingers

and tiny fingernails needing trimming

His hand held his mother’s hand till he could walk

His hand followed his father’s hand in working with wood

with saw and plane and nail and chisel

His hand turned wood and turned water into wine

His hand commanded the sea to be still

His hand touched diseased skin and it was healed

His hand touched tongues so they could speak

ears so they could hear

eyes so they could see

His hand took a dead girl’s hand,

lifted her up and brought her back to life

His hand was placed on the heads of children

while adults fumed in the background

and he blessed them saying  “let them come to me”

His hand broke bread and said “this is my body… for you”

His hand was taken, bound and pinned with nails to a timber scaffold

while his life ebbed away from him

Yet… on the morning

His hand pointed to the fishermen on the lake “try the other side”

His hand cooked fish for breakfast

His hand had the marks of nails that Thomas felt

His hand

And now… his hand is offered to you and me

“Take my hand” he says “Be forgiven, come and follow me”