I don’t remember being too keen on ‘holding hands’ as a child or even a girl. I liked being independent. Self-sufficient. Perfectly capable.
But I think it’s because I never quite understood the beauty of relying on another person. The wonder of knowing that if one of you stumbled, the other person could catch your fall.
And for me, this lesson came with the arrival of children. For their first steps, they held my hand tightly. They needed the strengthening and steadiness of a mother’s hand to get to their feet and hold their balance. But then came the search for independence and making their own way. They would push my hand aside and grumpily remind me, “I can do it myself”.
I would look on patiently. Waiting for the fall or misdirection or obstacle they could not get over. Then move in quietly, offer my hand and off we go again.
Holding hands is a reminder that you are not alone. It may be a reassurance of value and love. But it also tells the other person, you have my strength, hope and steadiness. Together we can face the most difficult of situations