It is said that an artist’s final brushstroke lends their painting a unique light and beauty—qualities without which the work simply wouldn’t be what it is. The same can be said of the proverbial “cherry on top” that completes the decoration of a cake. It is that specific detail, that final addition, which makes everything all the more special.
This holds true for a cake, and it holds true for life as well.
But not all touches are the same. Some appear highly precious, yet in reality, they are not. Who could forget the famous King Midas and his touch that turned everything into gold? “How wonderful!” you might say—”if only I had that, too!” But we often forget that the king nearly died of hunger and thirst, because even his food and drink turned to gold the moment he touched them. In the end, he had to beg Dionysus to take this “gift” away.
Then there are touches that are humbler, more subtle, and part of everyday life. There are people whose touch is delicate, tender, and attentive—a touch that instills courage, saying, “I am here; I see you; I feel you.” Conversely, there can be heavy-handed touches that instantly sow division, confusion, conflict, and fear, beginning to ruin the work of art.
There are touches that foster another person’s freedom and allow them to shine in all their beauty, and others that can stifle everything. Along our life’s journey, there are certain “brushstrokes” we will remember forever—moments that stir deep joy and gratitude—while others may require a long path of forgiveness and reconciliation.
If even the touch of King Midas is not the right one, then what kind of touch should we have?
We should learn from You, Lord, and from the Consolata.
We should learn from the touch of the Potter, who never tires of shaping the vessel to fulfill His loving design for it; we should look to that touch which washed and dried the feet of His own—a touch that heals, lifts up, sets free, and forgives. We all need that kind of touch—one that makes us feel like beloved sons and daughters, deeply known and truly heard.
We need the touch of the Spirit, which waters what is parched, heals what is bleeding, softens what is rigid, warms what is frozen, and sets straight what has gone astray. A touch that offers rest amidst our labors—a “handrail upon which to lean our hearts.” We are all waiting for such a touch, and, at the same time, we are called to be that touch for others. We need the courage to touch the leper, as well as the discernment to distinguish between different kinds of touches. We need a heart that loves beauty and remains steadfast in always choosing love.
We need the grace, sensitivity, and creativity of a painter who knows exactly where and when to apply a brushstroke, so that everything is transfigured. What is required is not a multitude of words, but touches that are genuine and profound, humble and truly loving.
Sr. Francesca Allasia, mc
