The Young Man with the Missing Hand Part 1

I saw one being, my angel walking in the mall yesterday.  I was on the way in; he was on the way out.  Or was he on the way in and I was on the way out. He wore a baseball Cap and all the attire. He wore baggy pants low and had a tight logo shirt on his showing his” six pack”.  He was perfect. Perfect in every way.  He had the look.  He seemed confident, happy and perfectly content. He walked with a gait of strength.

He walked proudly as if he had a left hand. His arm ended in a perfect shape, proudly displayed as if he had a hand.  I imagine he never had a hand and yet he proceeded with elegant composure, directness and determination. If he can do it I can do it. I wish I had stopped him and asked him how he does it. Next time I will.

We are all missing something.  Sometimes we learn to accommodate what is missing or lost. Sometimes, we get it back. But for the moment it’s gone. My right hand doesn’t work. I love it. I hold it and massage it and love it with my left hand. Meanwhile I talk into my computer.

What does this mean? What is my test? What am I supposed to be learning as I love, resent, and learn to love again the hand, my right hand, my dominant hand?

Meanwhile I teach myself to use my left hand. It is also perfect. It reminds me that I have the gift of life, the future, a new and continued path to walk.

The young man who was missing a hand is one of my soul partners.  His message was so, so clear and radiant. I thought, how can he walk so proudly as if his hand is there? How does he do that? Perhaps he was born that way and so he never knew the difference. But he must know the difference because everyone else seems to have two hands.

My left hand, the one that feels lighter, different, less coordinated and awkward; the left-hand is my friend, my ally.

Blessed, perfect, holy and full of grace is the one who gives us afflictions we can live with. We are gifted to still have life, a purpose, a Mission, a tomorrow that is boundless.

The young man who was missing a hand is fortunate and blessed beyond belief. We are suffering and grieving the loss or absence of something that everyone else seems to take for granted. We get to continue walking forward for a long time.

The angel missing a hand and I passed in the moment.

By Rick Concoff, c 2013