I have always hated my hands. They are ugly! They are wrinkly and freckly and oversized. I have complained about them because they look like my Mother's hands, I lovingly refer to them as 'Ape Hands' and I have been hiding them since I was a little girl.
When I was young, they were actually covered...and I mean COVERED with warts! I learned, the other day, from my friend Charles, who I went to middle and high school with, I was highly judged, laughed at and thought to be dirty because of them. Charles loved me and my warts always, by the way!
Once, when I was 11, my gymnastics coach's five year old daughter started laughing and told me I had 80 year old lady hands!
Now, recently, I've been on a journey of self discovery and self love. I honestly don't know how, when or why I started this (besides the fact that it's very necessary), but I do know that the influence of Jason Mraz and his joyologist friend Tricia Huffman (who I wish was my joyologist friend) might have had something to do with it, and if not, have helped me along my way. Either way, I was thinking about my hands today and I decided that I've had a change of heart.
I decided to focus on the positive and not judge a book by it's cover, and here's what I've come up with.
These are amazing hands! They are a healer's hands, a midwife's hands, a nurse's hands. They have been a child's hands, a mother's hands and a daughter's hands. An athlete's hands, a lover's hands, and a bully's hands.
These hands have felt much more than the large majority of other hands on this earth. They have been the first thing to touch a silky warm newborn, gently guiding her from the safety of her mother's womb, to her first breath in this breathtaking world. They have cradled the bodies and held the hands of lonely strangers as they take the journey from the safety of Mother Earth to their last breath in this heart breaking world. They have stroked the hair of the man who created me as he realized he was drifting away.
They have been broken, bruised and bloody, they have taken a beating in the process of protecting the goal for the team. They have caught the toddler who leaned just-a-bit too far over the edge of the railing. They have held the blood inside a man whose femoral vein ruptured...for 2.5 hours until they could find a vascular surgeon and a surgical team who could repair this vessel so this man could continue living.
All of these phalangeal facts are right off the top of my head, and if I took more time to actually think about it, I'd bet I could come up with a thousand more unbelievabilities that these hands have been a part of.
So, dispite the chewed up cuticles, the rice paper nails, the deep wrinkles, reminiscent of an 80 year old lady and dispite the fact that my skin is SOOO dry that alone, they could suck up enough moisture to relieve the pressure on a breeching dam, my hands are f*cking amazing and I love and appreciate them!
While thinking this over today, I was realizing the ease of which my hands knew exactly how to guide the baby from the nourishing placenta to the nourishing breast, that this probably isn't the first lifetime where these hands have served a midwife and scores of blissful mothers and babies well.
This Wounded Healer's hands were chosen especially for me and given to me as a gift to be used to serve others. They have their unique characteristics for a reason, and they are wonderful!
