Hands

A man walks into a crowed room--staring at the empty faces he sees around him. He glances over at a woman, who dropped a box full of papers while no one helps her pick them up. Stepping over her accident, he makes his way to his office. Sitting at his desk he discovers a rather healthy stack of messages scattered over his desk. Swearing under his breath he calls his assistant in. "Why didn't you call me? Tell me that these are all from this morning..." The assistant looks nervously at his hands, wondering if the stated question was rhetorical. After a long pause, the man told the assistant to leave in a manner that wasn't polite to say in the least.

He looked at his hands after the assistant walked out of the room. Had he adequately used his hands? Had he lent his hand to the assistant or that woman who dropped the papers? What about this morning when he yelled at his wife and told her he didn't have time to help her get the kids ready for school?

The thought passed quickly, however. He went on his way, habitually looking at his hands at his desk. There was something that enticed him about those warn hands but he never cared to figure it out.

One stressful day a dream started to form in his mind as he sought relaxation while staring at his hands. It was a beautiful and heart breaking scene: A woman kneeling to pray--hands clasped; a man studying his scriptures with his scriptures while holding his little girls hand; an elderly woman being led by the hand of a young man and finally a man crying into his palms. The last man was the most significant. He was pleading, tearing, scratching, and prodding with his fingers deep in the soil of the ground.

"Why, Father?" He kept desperately questioning the sky. After some time he rose, walked a ways and put his hand on the shoulder of one who was sleeping with intent to wait. The man wasn't mad and yet he wasn't happy. He was deep in thought and returned to the seemingly familiar place where his hands had previously groped.

The scene quickly changed and the dreamer couldn't bare to watch. Dark gloom took over. He saw the man that used His hands and watched him struggle in agony as many used their hands to counterfeit His.

A woman stumbles and the crops from her hands spill near by. The dreamer steps over her, walks past but notices the man who tore at the ground, the Giver, amidst struggle bending down and helping the perfectly able women clean a mess she never intended to make. With her hand in His, He helps her to her feet. With her palm pressed to His face, tears stream down the dreamer's cheeks. A blind man approaches the Giver and besought to be healed. The Giver had many tasks ahead but took the time to touch the beggars eyes with His hands. The blind man kissed the Giver's hands and feet--ever seeking repentance.

Again the scene changes--
The Giver is lying on crudely crafted wood, made from the hands of the innocent bystander who didn't know any better than to listen to orders coming from a mysterious and melancholy source.

Another man's hand touches the shoulder of the dreamer. He pushes the dreamer out of the way--his hands occupied by long, rough nails and a hammer. On one knee, one hand on the ground for support, the nailer places the point in the Giver's palm.

Just as he's about to hammer it in the dreamer looks away. He can't bare the thought of watching someone who, through all of His suffering and kindness, endure even more. Nevertheless, he hears the Giver; He's speaking words of love, joy, sadness, pain, and forgiveness. No longer able to use His hands, the Giver looks towards the sky and pleads, "Forgive them, for they know now what they do."

Tears fall from the Dreamer's face. He reaches up and wipes them away with his hands. He immediately drops to his knees, imploring for the freedom of this Giver's soul. The image fades and the man is sitting at his desk. Realizing he was staring at his hands for nearly two hours he faces reality with resolve to do better. He never noticed how buried the pictures of the Savior and his family were in all of the paperwork on his desk.

He picked up a message the assistant had given him from his wife which he hadn't read till now: "He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart...shall receive the blessing[s] from the Lord." Remember the tender mercies. I love you!

He immediately fell to his knees; hands groping whatever he could get at. His prayer wasn't in a garden, but with carpet wearing thin.

Night passed quickly as he drove home. On the way to his room he lingered at each child's door frames. A new light filled his eyes and warmth entered his heart. Now lying next to his wife, he knew that Dawn was near. A Dawn of new beginning, of gratitude, love and enduring forgiveness. He finally understood how to use his hands.

Forks, conformity and bananas

Sometimes I feel like we are in a society solely comprised of sheep. I am not here to tell you that you aren't different or individualistic--that is not my intent in the least. However, I have seen many things on this campus that make me chuckle to myself. For example, I have been in many situations where people don't know what a line is for but they stand in it because they assume that the person in front of them has a brain when, in reality, we are all idiots waiting for something to happen. (Don't get me wrong, I am 100% guilty of this)

Something else I've seen on campus is the subconscious decision of walking on the right side of the sidewalk. When someone walks on the left side, going in the opposite direction, it throws everyone off and some people even decide that they have every right to be angry at that person. If anything, I like to think of having a "cute-meet" with someone because you dance with them for a second or two, bashfully smile, and continue on your day.

I can't help but laugh my head off when I start a new class and every one sits in the same spot for the whole semester. It's fun to throw people off and sit in a different spot every day. It's as if people feel they have lost their place in society. Hahaha.

Have you ever just sat back and thought, why does society do that? Well, here are a few things I question: utensils, pants, hair, shaving (why even care about having gender appropriate legs?), sidewalk chalk, bicycles, feathers in your hear (girls...you know who you are), tanning, doors, napkins, chairs, homework...Our lives are on autopilot! Thinking about these things pretty much blows my mind.

At any rate,

I'm gonna start eating bananas with forks and I am also not going to shave. Run and tell that.

Joy in a Dandelion

Probably one of the ugliest flowers is a dandelion. It's shape is boring and round; it's smell is non-existant; and it's yellow color is not something one would necessarily place on a dining room bouquet. However, one of my favorite memories of my childhood involved two things: dandelions and beauty and the beast.

There is a scene in this movie where Bell is singing about how there is more to life than where she lives--with the ambition of becoming the best that she could become. She picks up the dandelion and the seeds fly effortlessly over the valley.

Why is this so special to me? Allow me to explain:

The fact that this ugly flower can turn into a almost magical "wishing" plant makes me happy. I know everyone has made a wish and blown to spread the seeds around. Suddenly this ugly flower becomes something entirely different and beautiful but is was only after time.

Yesterday I was on a walk with one of my good friends. We were walking in a field that happend to have the white--and even beautiful--dandelions. I ran past him, picked the biggest roundest one and was instantly brought back to my childhood. Spinning and attempting (terribly) to sing the words to the song from Disney, something new happened. I didn't feel like I needed to make a wish. At this moment, and for the first time probably ever, I realized I had everything in the world to be thankful for.

In this short moment I came to the understanding that I am truly blessed. Although I was attempting to be childish and ever so slightly immature--making my friend chuckle--it was a moment I am never going to forget. I am so thankful for all of my blessings and especially those around me, influencing me to be and do my very best.

Stop and find joy in the dandelions of life...it just takes time :)