A few days ago, as I drove home from my new job, I saw a woman in the neighboring car hang her arm out the window to swing up on waves of drafts and then back down again in that carefree way I recall doing during childhood summer car rides.

Over the hours that followed, I thought long and deeply about the posture of open hands and arms that should follow us through life. That inspired the following poem. I hope reading it now blesses you.

When the doctor caught me, bloody,

My spindly arms stretched wide.

I had nothing to hide.

And I cried out, my first

World-heard noise of joyful

Praise, my first outward day,

My first way to humanly sing

Holy, holy, holy.

When the sun drenched me, glowing,

My hands automatically lifted high.

My heart rejoiced at the sight

Of sky blue, domed bright above,

And I reached up in love,

As my child soul sang on cue,

My whole body open to echos of

Holy, holy, holy.

When tears soaked me, trembling,

My arms, hands relaxed their clenching.

My young adult mind stopped insisting

I had all the answers, was fine on my own.

And I opened my hands to receive

Life, anew, outpoured upon me

When I grasped His gift and whispered

Holy, holy, holy.

When the light woke me, peaceful,

My arms were still open, embracing

The husband who’d loved me, facing

Me in beautiful, faithful shamelessness.

And I thanked Heaven for reminders

Of redeemed ones who seek Him firstly

So that even our loving now rings with

Holy, holy, holy.

When my life ebbs one day, future,

And you sit beside me-feeble,

Please speak words of praise over me.

Turn my cool hands upward and

Spread my arms to welcome passage,

Returning me to childhood — to infancy —

The places where I so sweetly knew

Holy, holy, holy.

For when I fly to glory, yonder,

I will stand again in sunlight

And twirl in angel circles, but

Now robed well in crispest white.

And I’ll turn to bow before —

And then embrace — my soul’s lover

With hands open, arms stretched wide.

Holy, holy, holy!