Loving Touch

Ooooh, I never expected this one to be so challenging.
I realize how roughly and brusquely I handle things, without even realizing.
Last night I ripped through those photo albums, jerking photos off
the pages and stuffing the remains into garbage bags.
I was on a roll, and I wanted to get it done.
The time my hands were most loving were when they were guiding me
through the memories of the albums I wasn't dismantling.
Hmmm...there is tension in my hands.
Stretch and relax them.
They are my connection to the world.
I told Sawyer to be "gentle" when touching the anniversary clock.
What would it be like to touch my world lovingly?
I am typing much more lightly now, and the words are still appearing.
Is this somehow tied to "trying too hard"?
Okay, now to paint one nail as my reminder.
~~~
I am lousy at loving hands...lousy, I say!
Okay...now with less judgmental accusations:
I observe my hands to be more like clumsy claws, especially since I used 
and abused them during the purging of the old photo albums.
My nails were splitting and the skin around them tender and bleeding
when I finished the purging of the albums.
I filed the nails down to the nub and they are now starting to peek back
out over the skin-line, bravely re-emerging like they have done for
the past sixty-five plus years of my life.
I remember my younger hands with soft, blemishless skin,
long tapered fingers with pretty nails attached.
Now they are 65-year-old hands,
perhaps more loving than ever in many ways.
Maybe learning to love my hands just as they are is the first
step to using them lovingly.
Hmmmm...
~~~
It's Friday, and I'm still grabbing and grasping.
I'm using the kids as an excuse.
Hmmmm...
~~~
I'm well into the next week and realizing how my hands have
relaxed and how much more "loving" they appear and "act"; this practice
has made me extremely aware of how my hands reflect my nature.
They will continue to be a helpful barometer of my connection to the love
that I am experiencing, both allowing in and expressing out.