In the gospel Jesus cured a man with a withered hand. Your appreciation of our lord's kindness would be increased if you have spent time with a man who had such a hand. I did. It was back in the late thirties when traffic was still so light that us kids could play ball in the street.
Calvin from the next block from us had a left arm like a dead fish, and he used to walk up to watch us. When I was alone, bouncing a ball against the steps, Calvin would come spend time with me.
Back then we used to turn up our noses at country music, but Calvin saw a future for himself in it. His voice was as bad as his left hand, but I went along, encouraging him.
And when I hear this gospel, remembering Calvin, I love Jesus for giving that man a real life.