marking

I have a mark on my hand.  Really it's a henna tattoo.

This tattoo reminds me of an intimate evening with a beautiful group of women.  We were gathered, recently, in celebration of a dear friend's 40th birthday. 

In honor of creativity, she hired a henna artist who made her talented mark on each of us.

Quickly it's become such a part of me that I hardly notice it.  Though, my mark has certainly garnered reaction from folks at work.  Some have asked, with fondness, about how and why I got the tattoo.  Some have celebrated the creative experience.  Many have given the startling and degrading look that screams "what's that about?"

It struck me that my new mark sets me apart, not unlike a person with a disability or some other visible sign of difference.  It could be tempting to cover or hide my mark.  With each look of judgment, I consider it.

Then our campus minister asked me if I had attended a Hindu event recently and wondered about my henna.  He shared a wedding story of a young Christian woman for whom he performed the marriage ceremony.  Her ethnicity was Indian and to honor that she had her arms and hands decorated with henna.  He shared this story in such a loving way it made my heart open like a flower.

I heard myself say, "I'm thankful for my marking.  It reminds me each day of the friendship that prompted this marking.  It reminds me of the joyous celebration we shared.  It reminds me of the friendships I share with the other women who celebrated her.  It reminds me of my friend's creativity and how her creativity has touched my life."  For the first time in a long time, I felt a rush of warmth and happiness come over me.  Tears followed.

That moment with my chaplain reminded me that all of these relationships were formed out of our individual faith journey's.  And again, God's presence was felt in every fiber of my being.

I love everything about this mark!