I cleaned the floor on my hands and knees, especially the corners where dust bunnies gathered, in hopes of getting our apartment-rental deposit back. I peeled the freshly-picked, heritage tomatoes with a dull knife (the only one we had) and used my fingernails to pull back the skin, in hopes of canning them for mid-winter veggie soup.
I cracked and pulled at lobster meat while I wore a dorky lobster bib at the coastal Maine restaurant, in hopes of tasting every bit of that "market price" delicacy while dipping it in drawn butter.
I scratched my cat's neck with both hands as she squirmed and purred with joy this morning, in hopes of delaying her 4am "it's breakfast time, mom!" needs.
As I reflect on my hands at work in the world, I think about how God is using not just my hands but many hands to bring about a newness, a freshness in the world. I imagine that God's shaping me with God's digits, through my professors, my classmates, my mentors (past and present).
I look at my hands and marvel.
