Do you remember that song? I remember four little boys (shout out Zimmermans) singing that song together in front of church years ago. It was released in 1999 by Steven Curtis Chapman and some of the lyrics have been running through my mind this week. I have no idea why, other than God put it there and on my heart for a reason unbeknownst to me. Maybe it was the fingerprints I’ve been looking at the last few days…
I posted on Instagram a few times this week about fingerprints. Our whole family was here at our cottage for Father’s Day. That means the little boys were all here too. They are the center of all things Hoppen right now and I can’t even remember what life was like before them! What the heck did we even do when we got together???
Those fingerprints, Landon is the only one leaving them and leave them he did. I posted on Monday that I have no desire to wipe them away. The mom in me used to go around at night when my kids were little and wipe them all away at the end of the day. Didn’t I realize their hands would never be that little again? As a mom I didn’t think that way, as a grandma I do. I love looking at those little handprints all day and those of you that know me are thinking, who is this? Usually, I like things neat and tidy but when it comes to this, I’m okay with the smudges.
Yes, little ones’ fingerprints are precious, but what about the rest of us? It got me thinking that my Heavenly Father loves to see my fingerprints as well. Where have I been leaving them? I can think of a few places that pleased him and ones where he got out the Windex.
He left them at the coffee shop where I met a friend to talk through some hard stuff. He left them on my Bible the mornings I picked it up and forced myself to keep reading the Old Testament. He left them on my keyboard when I was writing and I listened to his voice.
He sprayed them away after being in a store where I was wasting time and shouldn’t have been there in the first place. He sprayed them off my phone after I went down the rabbit trail of social media instead of doing what he was asking. He wiped them off the remote after I binge watched two episodes of a show instead of spending more quality time with Craig.
He wiped them away off every bottle of booze I ever used to escape this beautiful life he gave me. Sadly, that’s a lot of Windex.
I’ve been a little more aware since I started thinking about where I leave my mark aka fingerprint in life.
Where do I want people to see my fingerprint, my stamp, and say, “Look, Sherry was here.”
Peace on your weekend,