Little Busy Fingers

A pair of red mittens, left behind by a wee two-year-old who face-planted a puddle on Saturday. Small. But big, by comparison with the little mitts warming the hands of my two-month-old granddaughter in Glasgow, and the one-month-old twins in Dundee. Wool fashioned to warm the beautiful, precious fingers and hands curled inside.

My Native American name as a Camp Fire Girl growing up in California meant Little Busy Fingers. My mother helped me fashion that name from a book of native American words; she knew me well. My fingers, rather bigger now, rather more wrinkled and with joints occasionally stiff, are still busy. Sometimes creatively, sometimes musically, sometimes just doing the work.

I give thanks to God for my hands and fingers, which enable creative expression, which facilitate service, which bring pleasure. God’s creative voice spoke things into being. May his creative voice find expression today through my fingers, through my hands, through everything I am, everything I do. May he bless others through my hands, and through yours.

Whose line?

We used to watch the improv comedy ‘Whose line is it anyway?’ There was a scenario they used to build comedy which involved two people. One was blindfolded, embracing the other from behind, arms wrapped round the waist of the other person. As that person gave directions, the blindfolded one had to perform some sort of task, such as making sausage rolls. It required clear directions, understanding, and dexterity. It could be hilarious.

The Christian life is like that, though the result is not always comedic. I have my arms wrapped round Jesus’ waist. My face is pressed into his back and I can’t see what’s coming. He gives me clear directions of where he wants my feet to take ‘us’, what he wants my hands to engage in. All I need to do is listen carefully and obey cheerfully. That’s all.

I am totally dependent on him. I need him to guide me. I need him to give me clear directions. I need him to give me open ears and a willing heart and a spirit that doesn’t grow tired or weary because it depends on him for life. Life in all its fullness.

Whatever the situation today, my arms are secure round my Saviour and my ears are open. I know my limitations, and they are many. I know his limitless power.

So grateful.