I love hands. In my favorite baby picture I look not at the faces but rather at the hands: how my mother is holding me and how I hold mine out to touch the photographer, the camera, the world. That I am reaching out for something is abundantly clear.In the last few years, my oft abused hands have started showing my age. My face doesn't as much... I'm often guessed to be younger than my 38 years, sometimes much younger. But my hands tell the story. Puffy from salty holiday food and an overheated office, broken nails dotted with those little white marks people sometimes get, scars, a new mole, heavy lines. I have a numb spot and a c-shaped scar on the tip of my left ring finger from when I cut the tip with a kitchen knife one Saturday morning. I still remember all the places I had terrible warts as a young teen and a skin rash attributed to "nervousness" when I was a girl. I am constantly lotioning and balming all winter long to ward off dryness and hangnails. I joke that my hands are my picture of Dorian Grey-- while my face doesn't show my age, my hands grow older by the minute.
Today, though, besides the usual physical flaws and the simple, beautiful wedding rings T bought me, there is a new addition to my hand. My friend Frau Lobster sat with me over dinner last night and in conversation, pulled something off her finger. "I got you this a long time ago," she said, dropping a silver ring on the table. Carved in to the band were the words, "Pray Hard". I immediately tried it on every digit until I found the one that fit best. I was glad to slip it on my own finger while it was still warm from hers.
Today I catch myself looking at it often. I've been needing a reminder lately because I feel like I've been reaching for God and He's been just out of touch. I know that I'm the one that has drifted away -- because God never moves. So I look down and I remember that I need to talk to him. After all, it's open communication that creates intimacy in relationships and the reminder to "pray hard" is just what I need right now.
Just as I was in that long ago baby picture, I guess I'm still grasping for something.
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1 comment:
You know, I look at my almost-37-year-old hands and think many the same things as you. You can preserve the face (I'm still asked regularly if I'm a college student at work...but I think it's the backpack...), but the hands are much harder to keep "young".
Nice story about the ring, esp. knowing you both. Very cool.
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