When I was eight I started down the road of my worst habit that persists to this day. Holding hands. It left off when I was old enough to walk without supervision from my parents and then it returned when I moved to that small town and starting hanging out with Lochlan, Caleb, Cole, Christian and the rest and I couldn't keep up with them. Someone would always take my hand to help me along over roots, rocks and slippery snow. If my feet tangled I would be lifted right off the ground and re-centered. If my mind wandered, that hand would ground me. I still do it, almost unconsciously (both trip on things and hold their hands) and it still causes a watershed of confusion and assumption. Some things don't change, the more they stay the same.
This morning in church was no exception. Lochlan had to work. He doesn't mind if it's a choice between being paid and being flayed, as he says and so I sat between John and Caleb. John is the habitual safekeeper and so I had his hand in a deathgrip, mostly because my mind was wandering so far I lost sight of it no less than three times and I didn't want Sam to notice and single me out. So with John's hand held tightly in mine I bowed my head and closed my eyes and off I went while Sam spoke of what it means to belong, and how we search for our tribes and then we search beyond them through our faith.
In my daydream I ran to catch up and went flying to the ground when I missed the root that loops up over the path. My hands both went out and then I caught myself, slightly startled, but not noticeable enough for anyone to react. I recentered myself and went right back in, preferring stories of the past over Sam's admonishment. Sam and Lochlan do a daily war in my head. Sam to keep my faith and Lochlan to question it. Because when has it ever helped us? Naw. We help each other, Peanut. Lochlan has little use for God and I sometimes believe in Lochlan instead of God completely. At least I can hold Lochlan's hand.
When the sermon was finished and John pulled my hand slightly to stand for the hymn I realized when I imagine-fell that I had grabbed Caleb's hand too. He had the hymnbook in his left hand and he looked so pleased as he squeezed my fingers gently in his own. John leaned way over and shot him a look that would have flattened anyone else and Caleb merely winked in return as I tried to lean back to see their exchanges a little better. Finally John said hold this and thrust the book into my arms so I let go of both of them and took the worn hymnal and Caleb rolled his eyes but never broke his concentration, singing the words to Welcome Table along with all the rest.
Hallelujah.
