Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Magic Finger

Sis came clomping down the hall waving her arms. Without sound, I would have thought she was warning of a fast approaching fire. “Look at this! Look at this! I have a magic finger!” She stopped, with Mr. Pointer centimeters from my nose to demonstrate her new found powers. “Watch! First it is red, then I push on it like this. It TURNS WHITE, then, magically, it is red again!” Sure enough. The evidence was compelling. Magic indeed. I showed her that I could do it too. “Mom! You have a magic finger, too! Just like me!”
The human body is a wonder, warranting the enthusiasm of preschoolers and tired adults alike. Chambers in the heart. Eyelashes. Bone marrow. Articulating joints. Synapses that somehow store olfactory memories half a century old. All of it amazing. A beautiful, breathing canvas demonstrating the skill of a divine artist.
I clearly remember early elementary years, sitting quietly on my parent’s couch, tracing the veins in the hand of an elderly friend who had come to visit my mother. I could drag my finger along the raised blue line from knuckles towards the wrist and watch it disappear until I released the pressure, eager blood rushing back, in duty, towards the tips. Now I wonder if she noticed, knew that her paper skin was a gift of discovery. That even today her hand reminds me of the wonder of God in the details of life.
Aching bones distract. Muscles, sore from use in outdoor play, distract. But always, whether I praise or not, I am fearfully made.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:14

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