Turn My Mourning into Dancing: Finding Hope in Hard Times

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

A woman, hardly able to speak because of disability, came up to me and said, “Could you give me a blessing?” “Sure!” I replied, and I prepared to offer a formal prayer, lifting my hand and arm robed with a long, flowing sleeve. “No,” she interrupted, “I mean a real blessing.” She wanted a hug! She wanted me to put my whole self into it. Of course I obliged, and then told her, “You are the beloved of God. And you are very unique.” That satisfied her. Immediately another member of our community said, “I want that too.” Soon there were others. A twenty-five-year-old man, an assistant who had come to live and serve in our community after college, came up. “Evan,” I said, “I’m so happy you’re here.” I put my arms around him and said, “My holding you is God holding you and saying, ‘You are the beloved son.’ Trust that and live your life in that.” His whole body relaxed. It was as though no one had ever told him this. But now he was ready to hear it. It was the poor, the handicapped people among us, who were the first to teach us to ask for a blessing. Those who suffered most led the way, gave us a profound lesson from amid their own need.