Empty-handed

OK. I love "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy."

And one of them goes something like this: "I think it's a good idea to carry around two sacks, one in each hand. Because that way, if anyone ever asks you for help, you can just say, 'Sorry, I can't; I've got these sacks.'"

Full hands. Sometimes it's really lovely to have your hands full (I'm back to being serious, BTW). Like when you are holding a sleeping baby, or when you've got one hand wrapped around a fork and the other, around a knife, and you are digging in to something yummy. It's lovely to have your hands full of love ... too many friends to call back, or too many people to thank, or too many kisses to give. It's wonderful to have hands full of groceries or flowers or other hands.

But sometimes, it's important to leave our hands empty. Sometimes it's important to put whatever we're holding down and to just open up our hands ... and leave them open. It's hard to do ... it can be sort of scary and lonely to wait ... for whatever will fill that space. But sometimes, it's important.

I'm feeling a bit empty-handed these days ... laying things down, leaving my hands open. It is sort of scary and lonely. But I wait with anticipation at the fullness to come.