We Are Not Competing


I don't think I've ever told you, Nat, but since we were little girls I've thought you had the most beautiful hands. I first noticed them when I watched you play piano in the living room of your childhood home, just a few houses down from mine. I envied the way you calmly moved through lessons in class or crafts at Girl Scouts, slower than I ever had the confidence to go but with much more grace and intention. And when we became teenagers, you started to crochet and then weave--the way you can turn something simple into something so beautiful is a lovely little miracle, a picture of what the Lord has done and continues doing for us all of the time. Today, although not often enough, I get to mother alongside you as your hands hold your babies, wipe their noses, stroke their hair. And now I get to make my own hands somewhat useful--to hold yours as you give birth and click the button on my camera as you love on your family. Although I do wish I was more of a maker like you, I have settled into a place of appreciation for you and your incredible talents and the peace you seem to so easily incorporate into every area of your life instead of the schoolgirl jealousy I once felt. I am so happy we have remained friends for so long, and I don't tell you enough how much I admire you.