17 | Hands

This excerpt is from our chapter on relational intimacy:

"If you crowded all the hands in the world into one giant police lineup - hundreds of millions of thumbs, pointers, rings, and pinkies in a pinstriped row - I’d spot my father’s hands in a second. They’re the electrician’s hands, nicked by a lifetime of snipping wires and installing panels. The softball pitcher’s hands, right index finger curved inward from throwing countless sinkers. The broken sinner’s hands that trembled violently when he repented of a year-long sin that nearly broke our family. The justified saint’s hands that he loves to lift when he worshiped King Jesus. I can still see that crooked index finger pointed up to heaven. I know my dad’s hands."