Hands

Yesterday's gift came in the form of an organ recital during the noon hour, with one 37-minute piece on the program.  The experience was musically wonderful, but the surprise was rising from my seat feeling as though I had just been on a short retreat. 

After the recital, two of us stopped for a cup of soup.  When I asked God's blessing upon our meal, I started by giving thanks for hands: hands that played the organ, hands that built the organ, hands that made the soup, our hands that would eat and then return to do the work we have been given to do.

Out on a walk today, I looked at my own hands.  My fists were clenched -- both of them.  It's no surprise that this week is full of stress, for too many reasons to name here.  I had thought I was managing better till I saw my fists.  Sometime during the night, I awoke to find one fist clenched -- even in sleep.

All will be well; the next five days just need to be over soon.  So if you are reading this and happen to be someone that I see in person, it would be okay to remind me to breathe, to check my hands, or both.