Orubebeism (adj):

The ability of an adult to behave like a 2 year old, who has been denied a bar of chocolate during the period of Lent.

IMPERFECT BEING PERFECT.

For some time now, I’ve been thinking about how imperfections are made perfect by God’s grace and honest hard work.

Then I looked at my hands.

In recent times, my hands, to me, seem to be the most disgraceful ever, because they are not in proportion to the rest of my body. My frame looks tiny, but my hands look big.

Out of place.

Odd.

Wide and massive.

Ugh!

And I looked again, and remembered the things I’ve done with them: The times I had touched people to give comfort and express my quiet sympathy. The bear hugs I receive and give in union with my arms. The meals I have cooked for the ones I love, friends and family members alike. The newly born babies I carried and cared for, and touched with love and in awe of God’s wonderful works of creation.  The times I poured my frustrations and emotions into bits of paper and a pen when spoken words are inadequate. Hands that have joined in the effort to pray the Rosary. The way I gesticulate to make a point. Fetching water. Being the handy (wo)man of the house.

My hands may look imperfect. But they are imperfectly perfect.

And they are mine.