With Open Hands

I felt ridiculous. Sitting hands upturned, arms stretched out, as I sat in the quiet of my own home. The whispers of, “You don’t have time for this. You are already running late. Seriously, if anyone saw you they’d think you were looney.”

And yet I sat. In the stillness, just as I do now with only the hum from the kitchen, and my thoughts.

I bowed with open hands, turned up to God. A reverent heart asking, pleading, begging. A heart realizing that these hands hadn’t been open before. In fact they had been clenched in anger, gripping tightly the regrets and wishes, the plans and heartaches. They were balled tight to hold in the dreams and keep out the ones wishing to snatch them from my grasp.

Photo provided by colourbox.com
Photo provided by colourbox.com

I had grown used to the ache of the clinched fist, of grasping too tightly at my life…a life that was not mine solely. In the very still quiet moment, when I turned my hands up and stretched my fingers outward I felt it all release.

The bad I wanted to let go of and the good I was scared to let loose. Realizing that the harder I grasp at it all, the quicker it slips through my fingers much like sand. All I was left with were grains of memories, remnants of hopes and fears.

I had been living too much in my past and keeping tight too much of my future to live in any sort of present. While looking ridiculous, I felt God meet me in that moment. A sigh from Him washing over me, and the gentle whisper, “I had been waiting for this, for you in this place.”

So had I. For this very moment of open hands and an open heart. It astounds me how much I want to share this moment and yet, keep it private. I realize that we often have to be told it’s okay to be open with God. To be vulnerable and get to a place of open hands. To find our moment of letting go and holding on. To release all of it and find ourselves at a moment of peace.

Peace in letting go of the ugly and the beauty. Finding that God was there, waiting in that moment for you can be a scary and exhilarating emotion. Yet I find I cannot dwell in it, I cannot attach to it once more and revisit it…because that would mean hands closed around it. Instead it’s a life of open hands…a life with open hands, turned up in praise, in gratitude, in release.

6 thoughts on “With Open Hands

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