Thursday, February 06, 2014

Busy Hands

 Linking up this week with Kiki O. 
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Long fingered.

Alabaster skin.

Graceful.

Smooth.

Soft.

These are not my hands.

Marked by pale white lines of scars, memories of the past.

Broken by patches of skin torn away by table corners.

Interrupted by red-rimmed burn marks seared into flesh from careless baking.

Thin cuts from hurried zucchini slicing.

Dried by wind.

Knobbed by computer use.

Calloused by weights and guitar strings…

My hands see work.  My hands do not often rest. 

Busy with work.

Busy with school.

Busy in making a home even if only a home for myself. 

“Go to the ant…”

There is a glorification of busy, but “idle hands are the devil’s workshop”.  While busy can distract, the mind wanders to dark places in moments of rest.  Daily life is a balance of finding the quiet and being productive.  It leaves scars and tears and burn.  It drains and dries.  It makes the heart long…

Long for rest without temptation.

Long for work without exhaustion.

Long for productivity without pride.


There is miracle in the monotony as my eyes are drawn upward to that which I even my imagination can hardly grasp.  These scars remind me of the fallenness of this world and long for things to come.



I STILL HATE PICKLES

3 comments:

Katie Murchison Ross said...

I enjoyed reading this--I definitely relate to the balance between busyness and silence/reflection. I want to learn better how to engage and the darkness and learn from it instead of running from it. Starting from the detail of your hands and how they reflect your daily life was a cool way to draw us in.

Katie Murchison Ross said...

Enjoyed your post. I definitely relate to the tension between busyness and silence. I want to learn how to engage the darkness and learn from it rather than running away. Starting from your hands and how they reflect your daily life was a cool way to draw us in.

Courtney Lott said...

Thanks for the feedback! I'm glad I'm not the only one who struggles with this.