10/30/2025
As a doula, my hands are my most-used tool. My hands mean comfort, counter-pressure, a gentle caress of encouragement, a grounding touch as you go beyond what felt possible.
I've been reflecting on the care I give lately. Last month, after a particularly heavy birth, I found myself in my church, praying with the psalms that are a part of routine. Psalm 90:17 says, "Let the favor of the Lord be upon us; give success to the work of our hands, give success to the work of our hands."
These words spoke to me so deeply in a new way. The moments when I find myself repeating them, I am often silently praying for things to go "right" - whatever my version of right is in that instance. I want the works of my hands to succeed. But that day, with swirling thoughts about births that had dramatically shifted, and other pieces of my life that felt unclear, I looked up and caught sight of the cross.
It was as if peace flooded over me, as I was drawn to the hands of Christ, nailed to the cross. My own prayer, "Give success to the work of my hands," was answered there, in a moment but in eternity. Christ's work, the work of His hands, is finished on the cross. Salvation, redemption, healing, all completed in the suffering Lord. So, let the hands of Christ be the hands whose work succeeds in me.
(I've been ruminating on whether to write this post for a while, because it feels so vulnerable to unveil a bit of my interior world. I don't often share these moments, but this life of faith is the foundation to the care I provide.)
πΈ: