The story of our lives is written upon our hands, as it is written in our faces. The scars and the callouses and the rings, tell the tales of who we are, and what we've done, the obstacles we've overcome, and the commitments we've made. Even the trembling, in my own hands -- which, to a photographer, can be maddening -- is a heritage of the family that I love.
With our hands, we learn about our world. With our hands, we connect to one another. We embrace and we push away. We caress and we strike. We adorn our fingers with the symbols of our greatest covenants and promises.
Here are the stories that I see, in some of these pictures of hands. Many are related to weddings -- maybe the most prominent day for hands, in our lives.
A very old door, and a very new bride. That is symbolic of marriage to me -- such an ancient institution, but new to each couple.
A mother and her son -- a beautiful boy, with Downs Syndrome. Notice the stubby little fingers. Jackson has had a rough time in his short life, but he is loved by his family.
Emma, exploring at Sea World. I didn't think she would go near the star fish, but she was as amazed by it, as I am, continuously, by her.
A boy, who worships his mother. Don't they all?
A father dancing with his daughter, on her wedding day. He almost didn't live to see that day.
CTR stands for Choose The Right. I pray, every day, that they will.
A bride, waiting patiently and pensively, while the photographers finish up with the other family members. Do you remember what you were thinking about, on that day?
My own wedding ring. It can no longer be removed from my finger (not without some serious damage to either the ring, or to my finger). I'm okay with that.
Holding hands, two becoming one. The most intimate and universal form of affection.
So, there you have it.
After this little odyssey, I may never look at hands the same way again.