Who are you?


Look at your hands. What do they say about you? Are they dry and chapped from a harsh Northern winter? Is there dirt under your nails from working with the soil, getting seedlings started for the coming spring? Are they scarred from years of hard physical labor? Are they soft and well manicured from a conscientious dedication to hygiene or a life of pampering? Are your fingers twisted and gnarled from years of ravaging lupus?

Your hands can reveal quite a bit about your lifestyle, your habits, your hobbies. But a casual inspection cannot determine who you are; it cannot reveal your identity.

When a child is born in the hospital, the physician doesn’t merely make a note of the infant’s physical characteristics and have a nurse jot them down on a crib card. Before that baby ever leaves the delivery room, a nurse takes a footprint to document the identity of the child.

When a criminal is apprehended, he is logged into a system, not only by his physical characteristics, but by a record of a one key trait that is uniquely his: by his fingerprints. Every handprint and foot print is as unique as the DNA that courses through our bodies. While we can get a vague impression of our “identity” by peering at the whorls and grooves etched by the very hands of God onto our fingertips, we don’t see every detail until we apply those prints to ink and then to paper. Once we have a concrete, visual record of that, we really get to see our defining characteristics.

Last year, during a time of prayer and introspection, I felt a gentle nudge from the Spirit guiding me to look at my hands. To examine what stands out, what makes them uniquely mine.  As I studied the wrinkles and patterns that were ingrained in my palms  the words, “Apply yourself and you will see who I have created you to be,” began to flow and repeat in my mind. Over and over again, “Apply yourself, apply yourself… I have created you.”

I realized that I have been hiding away my talents for far too long. I have been hiding in the shadows of others’ greatness. Waiting, perhaps not wanting, to be discovered. I know that God has crafted my heart, my mind, my hands… for a special purpose. Until I began to actively apply myself to this broad canvas called life, I had never seen my mark made. I couldn’t recognize all of the potential that was locked up and stored inside of me. By closing my hands, I had refused to let myself see what I was capable of. Really, I had refused to let myself see who I really was. I had bottled up so much compassion and inspiration. I have such an overwhelming desire to help and to bless those around me. I had kept that hidden away for so long that I had actually hidden it from myself.

I have begun, slowly, to embrace who I am. And I have been thrilled. And terrified. I am quite literally in a constant state of awe and wonder and confusion. And it has been incredible. No, it has been Divine. This Fall, I began to meet weekly with a group of women and craft and cook, eat and pray together. I have laughed and cried. I have been blessed and humbled. I have felt insignificant and conversely wholly necessary. And by applying myself to the great Canvas of Life, I have seen others begin to break out the fingerpaints and begin to discover who they are. And this Canvas… it is beautiful.

Anyhow, more on all of this later. I just wanted to give you a heads up that more personal reflection and introspection is on the way. My life is changing and my thoughts are being transformed on this great journey of discovery. It’s a wild ride, and I want to share it.


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