My hands used to show my youthfulness. There was a time when I would put my hand against my mom's and pay attention to how small mine was compared to hers. They weren't wrinkled, scarred or tainted. They were small and stubbly.
Now that I am older, fingers have taken on certain roles. I must admit, my most favorite label on my fingers is that beautiful multi thousand dollar hot shot blingaby bling that wraps around the second digit on my left hand. That's right! You guessed it! My wedding ring finger. That finger used to be identical to my other ring finger. Over time, this has changed. For the last six years, it has had a wring on it. I can tell you that now it bears a permanent reminder of that ring. If I slip my ring off to clean it, that finger bears a permanent impression of the ring. There is an indentation. There is a tan line. It shows that a ring belongs there. This is not to say that I must wear a wedding ring, or that my value comes from this ring. But it's a beautiful reminder to me that so many years ago, my knight in shining tanks put a shnazzy gift on my finger and gave me a new name. He re-identified me. I was no longer "Jane Doe" I was now "MRS. John Smith". I was no longer "single". And I think it's pretty cool that one of those ten fingers gets to wear a reminder of that beautiful gift.
My left hand bears a scar. It has a scar where a five gauge IV (that's a big one) was quickly shoved into it on an ambulance ride to a big city an hour away. That was an adventurous moment because it was the night I delivered my triplets. I remember the EMT holding my arm while the Paramedic drove (he was on the phone with the medivac team. The BIG guns! lol). They didn't want to stop the ambulance because my contractions were back to back. They didn't want to lose any time and risk me delivering thirty week old triplets in an ambulance. Literally, the paramedic was telling me if I felt like I needed to push, to NOT push and to hold those babies in. He literally said that he could only MAYBE keep ONE baby alive in that ambulance. MAYBE. So the EMT held my arm as steady as he could, while I breathed through a VERY painful contraction and he put that IV right in. He was an expert because he got it the first try. But in his haste, he taped the plastic part of the IV so tightly to my skin (and my adrenaline was rushing for hours) that I didn't notice it had sort of dug a bit of a hole. So I have a scar there. I always wonder, just a bit, if every time I have to give blood, the technicians wonder if I'm sort of recovering junky. My vains are pretty shot. I gave blood so much and had IV's so often with that pregnancy...Thank God I'm not scared of needles!
My fingers have done well by me. They help me accomplish the many actions that I take in each of my days. They have held bottles, held breast pumps, buttoned up clothes, folded clothes, written, opened doors, driven cars, and on and on and on. With my fingers I soothe my children's tears, memorize my husband's face, cup my children's cheeks, and hold hands. I have re enlisted my soldier, touched my baby for the first time, and let go of the man I loved. My fingers have been with me through every tear, every smile, every laugh, every moment.
I honestly am not really sure how to accurately describe my fingers to you. They're still short. They're still small. I don't have long nails. I don't wear nailpolish or fake nails. I like to keep them "natural". I figure, if God wanted me to have red nails, He would've delivered me with them. :)
Okay, but seriously I kind of dig them. So how about you? Have you thought about your ten digits today? What would you do if they suddenly went away?
Love this post :) Fun read!
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