I know. It's an oxymoron. Like jumbo shrimp. Giant baby fingers. Basically, I look like I should be a hand model for "Honey, I blew up the kids." (remember that classic? Not as good as the original.) It looks like I have the hands of a seven month old blown up to reach a normal adult sized-mitt.
I have "pillowy" fingers that look like I should be playing patty cake or making mud pies. I look at my daughters hands and can't figure out if she has my hands, or just normal baby hands. Only time will tell.
As a GBHS sufferer, (giant baby hands syndrome) I used to cringe when we took those special photos at school. Did anyone else's school do that? We had the normal school yearbook photos at the beginning of the year. Then, in the spring, they busted out the freestyle photo sessions.
Then they throw you in front of a backdrop where it looks like you've been photo shopped into a field of bluebonnets. (We're in Texas. Texans can't say no to bluebonnets. They're legendary. When I was a kid, I was taught that if you stepped on or mowed over a bluebonnet it meant jail time.)
Then they get you to lean on some "authentic" looking mailbox (Meaning it looks like it's had a nasty run in with a baseball bat or two). Now you're a sweet Texas girl standing on a dirt road near a field of bluebonnets waiting for the school bus.
Ok, so your placement is correct. Now they want you to ball your hand up in a fist and lean your chin against it just so. Nuh uh. There ain't no way we're getting my giant baby hands in this shot. I'll do the chin-down-then-tilt-the-head-to-an-unnatural-position. I'll do whatever you want. As long as my hands aren't in the shot.
Fine. If you insist. But you have been warned. You've just guaranteed certain doom for your chances of getting my parents to order these photos.
The only thing that made me less self conscious of my hands is my wedding ring. I adore my wedding ring. It obviously holds a lot of emotional significance to me. And it's sparkly. And I tell myself that it makes my hands look more grown up. Well, at least my left hand. My right hand still looks like it belongs in grade school *cough three stone anniversary ring *cough.
A couple of weeks ago I noticed that one of the prongs holding the diamond on my engagement ring had broken off. My diamond was feeling pretty wiggly. And I was feeling pretty nervous. If my diamond fell out, we wouldn't be able to replace it any time soon. Plus, it's special. Trevor picked it out for me. I don't want another diamond.
So, I put the diamond away until I could get it fixed. But my hand felt empty. And it reverted back to it's giant baby ways. So I tried wearing a different ring. First, I put on my class ring from high school. Not what I was looking for. The only other rings I have are costume jewelry (that I never wear) but I figured I'd give them a try.
One had a huge pink stone in it. I felt like J-Lo when she was engaged to Ben Affleck. By the end of the day my finger was green. Eew. Subsequent tries with the other rings bore the same results. This is not working.
I haven't taken my ring to get fixed yet. Sometimes when I'm in my room I'll slide it on my finger for a few minutes and it fits like an old friend. I sigh from relief and relish the feeling. Then it's time to take it off again.
People are broken daily. We become hurt and wounded by our circumstances and the people around us. The worst kind of pain is that caused by someone who is your brother in Christ. Or when your pastor makes a mistake and lets you down. When someone you trust didn't have your back like you thought. The kind of pain that causes a weight in your chest, making your mind reel and your breaths sharp and shallow. The kind of pain that makes you think, "How do I recover from this?"
So you slip the ring off. The covenant you've made with Your God. Such an easy action for such a drastic measure. Your whole understanding of who He is and who you are has been rocked from its foundation. And the church definitely isn't turning out to be what you thought it was. This is dangerous. Better slip off the ring before you lose it completely. Put it in a dark dusty drawer where it will be safe from harm.
The void the missing ring has caused screams out to you, betraying your insecurity and emptiness. You quiet the noises by slipping on another ring. What can give me peace? What can give me contentment? Just until I get things fixed. Just until life is in a better place.
The replacements do nothing but leave you tarnished. They bear witness to the futility of filling our lives with substitutes. At the beginning they look big and bright, but they leave you rotten.
You sneak up to your room and slide open the drawer without a sound. You reach in and grab your faithful ring and slip it on. The sound of relief escapes your lips. The covenant is secure. This is comfort. This is love. This is peace. What is broken can be restored. The authentic. Won't leave you tarnished.
Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a right spirit within me.
Do not banish me from your presence, and don't take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me again the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you.
In his kindness God called you to his eternal glory by means of Jesus Christ. After you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.
1 Peter 5:10