But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human.
I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.
Jeremiah 17:10 (Message)
We are standing together, shoulder to shoulder with friends and strangers. The lights are low. I see people in silhouette, arms raised to the ceiling, faces upturned. Like black cutouts against a luminous stage, I see their bodies sway in time to the music. The music is what we came for, my daughter and I. Just the girls. A Christian concert at a local church. Some friends invited us.
My daughter. I glance sideways to see how she’s doing, to see how she is navigating this sea of emotion, to see if her head is above the spiritual waters. This image is frozen like a snapshot on my brain. Eyes closed, face tilted in the dark slightly raised hands in front, palms up to receive. I think about her. This daughter. This blessing. I wonder if she understands that this is worship. This is praise. I wonder if she is copying the hands of others. She is, after all, a concrete girl and this… this is an ocean of abstract.
“Sierra,” I bend down and whisper, “what are you doing with your hands?”
She opens her eyes and I think I can see straight into her soul. I don’t remember these depths, these layers. I think I don’t know this girl. I see complication, and understanding, and compassion. I see abstract. I see clear eyes full of wisdom. I see an old soul in my daughter with Down Syndrome.
“It is God, Mommy,” and she raises her hands higher for me to see.
Oh God of the Universe, Help us to open our hands and our hearts to receive you.
Help us to be your hands in this broken world.