The Kissing Hand

I was thinking about a particular child, I met during my first trip to Kenya years ago, today. Thought I would share a story with you all and hope it touches your heart as much as it did mine. The story takes place during mid week of a camp during my very first trip to Africa. It is a story about how no matter how tough we think a child is, the fact is, they need to know that someone loves them, and they aren’t alone. They long for it.

I was the leader of the youngest children at camp. Early morning, I packed my back pack of supplies I might need that day. For whatever reason, I felt prompted to throw in a few books. One of those books was “The Kissing Hand.” I used to read this book as a teacher to my class. I taught classes of children, many of which didn’t know the parental love in this book, until they came to school and received it from us.

The story is about a young raccoon who has reached the age to attend school. He is frightened to leave his mother and looks to her for comfort. She sees his fear and takes his hand in hers. She opens his paw and ever so gently kisses the middle of his hand and closes it tight. She then tells him that she has placed a kiss in his hand. This kiss will go everywhere with him, and he can use it at any time. If he is feeling lonely, he can place it on his cheek or just hold it tight in his paw and feel the love inside.

Midweek of the camp with the children, I found myself in the afternoon not with my group of youngsters, but rather with a group of older boys on a set of stairs. We were talking and somehow the conversation went to wondering what was in my bag. I opened the bag and showed them the books, fully expecting them to not be interested. After all, they were a little too old for books of this kind. I was pleasantly surprised when they all scooted in around me and asked me to read to them. The first book I read was “The Kissing Hand.” When I finished the story, they all sat in silence. I wasn’t sure if they thought it was childish, they were sad because none of them had a mother, or something else. I moved on to another book. After almost three or four story books later, I thought they would be tired and ready to enjoy the sun like most of their friends playing soccer. I looked at them and said, “What do you want to do next?” With the most innocent faces looking up to me I heard the faint request, “Can you read it again?”

They wanted me to read the “Kissing Hand" again. I did, but this time when I finished, I took each one of their hands and kissed their palms. I told them that when they felt lonely, or sad, or just needed to know someone loved them, to press that palm against their cheek, and I would be giving them a kiss and loving them. I wondered if they thought what I had done was something for children much younger than them, the tough guys. It was a book for little ones. However, I couldn’t ignore the Lord prompting me to kiss each one’s hands. With that, they were off and playing on the soccer field playing with the rest of the boys.

At the end of the week, we took a group picture of our team with all the children. After that, it was the goodbyes that we all were dreading. I saw one of the tough boys that was with me on the steps that day. Michael came up and gave me a hug goodbye. I leaned down to his level and told him I loved him and would be praying for him. I went to shake his hand and to remind him about something we had learned that week in VBS. As I did, I said “Do you remember what I told you Michael?” He quickly jerked his hand away. It threw me off guard. I thought I had made him uncomfortable for some reason. However, I noticed that tough guy face slowly melt away. He took his hand and placed it on his cheek. “I remember, Beth,” he said as he smiled and gave me a hug. I watched him walk away with his fingers closed in around that palm. Michael…I prayed he would always know he is loved. He is just one of the millions who is longing for it.