Touch

We bless what we touch. Think of that when you hug a child, complete a project, or place one palm against the other in prayer and thanksgiving. We bless our hopes, intentions, responsibilities, and souls. I’m really cognizant of this lately, especially as I get to this existential freefall of middle age. I'm worrying less about this vanity as I realize that time simultaneously does and does not matter--we need cherish it and let it go at the same time.

Even though daily living can be a trudge and even horror for some, and a joy for others, every soul finds a need for touch, be it physical, mental, or emotional. That should be enough incentive to reach for each other, or to take great pride and care with our daily work, with what gives us purpose and lifts others up. That touch can make or break, create anew or even destroy. It’s our intentions that make the difference.

Where our hearts find purpose is where the Creator deconstructs us and creates anew. If you can imagine it, that’s where God meets us, in that infinite touch. It is my hope that in some way, regardless of whether you believe as I do about anything--but most certainly about matters of faith--that I have touched you, that I have been some kind of instrument for good in your life. And that you are the same for others.