At a conference I attended last week, one story stayed with me long after it was told.
The speaker mentioned a colleague whose wife had recently given birth prematurely to quadruplets. One tragically did not make it, and the remaining three were placed in the NICU, fighting for survival. As he spoke, I pictured the scene - monitors beeping, tubes protruding, the frightened parents standing by helplessly, unable to do much except watch.
Then the father told his colleague something remarkable. One of the doctors had suggested something unexpected: “Place your hands gently on them,” he said. “Your touch can help.”
At first, the father hesitated. The babies’ skin was incredibly thin - translucent, fragile, painfully sensitive. Even the softest material could irritate it. But the doctor in the Pennsylvania hospital explained that a parent’s touch is different. Somehow, the contact of a mother or father doesn’t intensify the pain - it soothes it. Research shows that either parent’s touch helps premature babies regulate their heart rate, reduce pain, and stabilize their breathing. The preemie’s body is biologically tuned to recognize and respond positively to that unique, nurturing touch. In other words, love itself has a physiological effect.
That image stayed with me: three fragile babies, vulnerable to everything around them, finding comfort not only through medicine, but through connection. Through a simple touch.
And I realized - we’re not that different. Our skin may have thickened over time, but our hearts still ache for that same reassurance: a hand on the shoulder, a word of care, a reminder that someone is there. There’s a kind of healing that only human connection can bring - the warmth of another person’s presence that helps us steady our breath and find our footing again.
But there are also moments when no one else can reach us - when the pain, confusion, or fear is too deep for human touch alone. In those times, we need something more intimate, more direct: a “skin-to-skin” connection with Hashem/Gd Himself.
Just as the preemie’s body calms when it feels the touch it was designed to recognize, our souls are tuned to respond to His presence. When life feels raw, Hashem/Gd’s “touch” - sometimes felt through prayer, a flash of clarity, an unexpected gift - doesn’t always remove the pain, but it steadies us through it.
We can, and should, always seek moments to offer comfort to one another - our touch, our time, our words - because love truly heals. That specific touch may be just what is needed to get through the challenge being faced.
And when our own life feels too much, when we are stripped of defenses and feel painfully exposed, and no human touch seems enough to help, that’s when only Hashem’s closeness can soothe us. His is the ultimate parental touch - the one that doesn’t just calm the surface but restores the soul beneath it.
So this week, may we strive to be the hand that reaches out to comfort another, while simultaneously being blessed to feel Hashem/Gd’s gentle guidance upon our own.