In Seasons of Grief and My 36th Birthday

Happy Thirty First Birthday to Me…and My Hands

I recently listened to a book (An Altar in the World) where the author (Barbara Brown Taylor) encourages her readers to spend 15 minutes examining their hands. I did this around my 31^st birthday, and these are the thoughts that came to me.

My hands are the hands of every woman before me
All of whom turned 31 before me
Christians believe in a “cloud of witnesses”
I believe in a “cloud of hands”
We have the very same hands
My hands work in unison with ones that have come before and ones still coming
I don’t believe in reading palms the way fortune tellers do
But I believe that hands communicate
Stories are not written only on palms, but also in nailbeds and knuckles and scars
I’ve always thought that if one wants to know what kind of person one is, observe their hands
Realities are revealed in hands
Hands don’t tell the whole story, though
As my 31 years of experience have taught
It is impossible to know the whole truth with only half a story
One can know the hands, though, and the mysterious half-told stories they hold
I can only speak on behalf of my own hands, but
Their appearance is fairly ordinary given their 31 years of service
Large veins, wide knuckles, obvious pores, dry cuticles
Their ordinary appearance allows a glimpse into an equally ordinary life
I like ordinary
It is my favorite place to be
Ordinary is enough when one is thankful, and I am thankful
So are my hands
The other half of the story that hands often hide is what they hold
Which is more than our coffees and grocery bags and phones
Or snacks, diapers, and laundry in my case
Just today I held no less than 6 whole futures in my hands
They came to me, as they do every Monday, in the form of children
My hands perform magic that allows life to continue when I offer food they’ve prepared
They hold histories unknown when my 91-year-old neighbor grasps them as we say goodbye
My hands absorb pain or joy when they embrace someone experiencing too much emotion to bear  alone                                                                                                                                                                           
So much in life is performed without realizing the significance of the act                                                   

But when seemingly menial tasks are approached with reverence, our hands transform into supernatural tools                                                                                                                                         

Hands are modest, and one must be intent on experiencing the gift they offer                                         

Which is bringing to light the Divine inner workings of our everyday lives