adornment

For a long time, I have imagined intercessory prayer through the lens of that beautiful passage in the Revelation to John about the trees growing along the river of life.  "The leaves of the trees are for the healing of the nations."  Often, as I begin to pray, I imagine holding out my hand and having those leaves fall into my open palm.  So, I got a tattoo of flowers and leaves on my left hand. It's only henna, but I may begin stages on an inked one in a few years if it turns out that I still want one then.  In the meantime, I plan to have a henna tattoo there most of the time.

 Above: The henna was still on.  The lady who applied the design at Katie Beth's Learning Garden added beautiful red and gold glitter to enjoy while the henna set. Below: The tattoo after it had cured for a day and a half.  It's slightly darker now, though some parts are already wearing off (I wash my hands a LOT as a stay at home mom). 

 I never really considered tattoos before, but recently I have been craving one on my left hand.  Those leaves have become so much a part of the way I think that I expect to see them there with my eyes.  I have had the tattoo for six days now, and I was forgetting it was there by Tuesday.  That day, I went to mail packages and conversed with the inked UPS store worker about his tattoo symbolism.  Apparently my experience is de rigeur.  The young man's tattoos all had deep symbolic meaning to him.  He told me about his next tattoo: angel wings on his back, one full and glorious, the other withered, to commemorate his grandparents, all of whom passed away right in a row from cancer not long ago.  "How beautiful!" I said, seeing right away that his ink was a perfect way to honor them. There is something visceral about adorning one's person, about telling a story on one's body.

Above: I didn't mean to make such an emo portrait there.  I just mis-aimed my iPhone.  

I recently started wearing jewelry again when I leave the house, and I find that I missed it a great deal.  Not in the same way as I would miss seeing the leaves, though.  The jewelry is a different sort of reminder, of putting on and taking off duties to oneself and society, of the mitzvah of rejoicing.  One wears jewels as much for others as for oneself. 

But these little leaves and flowers here on my hand, they are an aid to prayer and blessing. Where is grace?  It has already been given.  Grace is resting right in your hand. 

In a way, I suppose my recent motivation for adorning my skin is related to mourning my father.  We are dust, and to dust we shall return.  His tattoos and mine will turn to dust.  But the grace that infuses these hands, the grace given in the Incarnation, surely that must remain.