Proverbs 20:5

Do you ever stop to realize what miracles our hands are? One of my acquaintance-mentors during high school was a surgeon at Mayo. He only works on hands. And that might be more difficult than open-heart surgery, the reconstruction of a hand. Do you know how many bones are in your wrist alone? Do you realize the quiet symphony of the muscles as you do the most mundane of tasks? Think about everything you do with your hands. We're musicians - we adore the strength and skill of the string musicians, the flying fingers of the pianist and woodwinds, and the strength and accuracy of the percussionists. The strings are actually my favorite, because it requires so much strength and subtlety, along with the remembered skills. Muscle memory is simply awesome, but for us, it only really applies to remembering positions (violins, trombones, etc.), and a lot of fingering work on anything with keys. I remember things like "In the Mood" far more by the way they feel than the sounds. But that's just music. I've got muscle memory for the knots we use on the boat. You instinctively curl your fingers to fit around your baby's hand, a few hours after you've arrived at work. Watch the way the joints move while you type, or eat, or anything. We completely take these miracles for granted. Study other people's hands - it's interesting what you see. There's a character that's revealed in this collection of bones, tendons, ligaments, and muscles worked together, and it's not one you're often aware of. Mine are small, and I like them best when I'm working on something - piano, sax, writing, or just getting a better understanding of something. Tracing the lines of another person's hand - again, it feels like an unexpected trust. Except, in this case, it's not that you find it unexpected, but that they do. You don't realize how sensitive you are, how strong you are, and how vulnerable. Running over the muscles and contours, tracing the lines of blood vessels and skeletal structure, calluses and scars, and realizing how much is remembered below the surface of your fingertips. Do you trust me?