Last night, just before bed, I noticed how my daughter was looking at her hands, intently gazing as she turned them over again and again. I don’t know what she was looking at, or what she was thinking, but it reminded me of me, as a child.
I was probably older than her, but I was still a young child. I have vivid memories of stopping throughout the day and looking at my hands. I would turn them over again and again and marvel at the fact that I was me. As I looked at my hands I would repeat in my head “I am me, I am Mallory.” I thought it was truly incredible that out of the whole world I ended up being me. I sincerely thought I could have ended up as anyone else, but I ended up being me.
Now I look at my hands and as I think about being me I wonder, what do I have to give with my hands. They are mine, and hold unique gifts and talents. Somehow I ended up being me, so what can I do with myself, what can I add to the world, how can I give goodness with my hands.