All Creatures Here Below

My grandfather's memorial service was this past weekend, a chance to memorialize 92 years in a scant 45 minutes. Family gathered, huddled, mumbled, and stared, hoping for cues from no one in particular. Yet the most powerful part of the whole service didn't come from aunts or uncles, it came from my brother.
As most of you know, I suffer from something called hyperhydrosis, a condition that randomly makes my hands and feet sweat uncontrollably (if you didn't know this, surprise. I do. There is no cure, but apparently botox shots every six months can mostly stop it, if I got a couple grand I need to burn). When I have an episode, the very last thing in the world I want to do is touch another person's hand. I am frighteningly self-conscious about this, and I think for good reason. Like I would rather be naked in front of a large crowd than have to hold hands with people for more than 10 seconds. (So please, don't ever make me hold your hand. I'm not kidding. I once dumped a boyfriend because he insisted on holding my hand when I didn't want to.) Toward the end of my grandfather's memorial, my Uncle David got up and said, “As per family tradition, we'd like to end the service singing The Doxology and holding hands.” I froze. I was standing between my brother and my Aunt Penny, whom I've met a total of twice in my life. I looked at him with panic in my eyes.
“I can't hold hands! Look at my hands! I can't do it!” Elliott locked eyes with me and said steadily, “Switch places with me. Stand between me and Katie (our little sister) and we'll take care of you.”

And you know what? He did. When the time came he looked right at me and grabbed my hand, the one I was trying to hide, and held it firmly through the song, giving me a little squeeze when we both broke down into tears.

All this time I've been wondering how to love my brother well, what boundaries to enforce, the amount of contact I should have with him, I've been condemning him and judging him. And then he goes and, if only for a moment, loves me so deeply and precisely that I am struck dumb. It wasn't the lesson I was expecting to learn in that moment, but I praised the God from whom all blessings flow.