I was reminded of the time when I was a little girl and in Kindergarten that our art project was to make a handprint using clay. I remember we used glaze. I picked yellow because I knew that was my mother's favorite color. The teacher had them fired and then they were distributed back to us to give to our parents. The picture to the left is a picture of the handprint that I have to this day. I had wondered what had happened to it for a long time and then forgot about it for years. Late into my adulthood, I was visiting one of my favorite cousins. She informed me that their family had discovered a little handprint. They were trying to figure out who it belonged to. It has the initials CG on it. My cousin finally remembered that is Cindy's!! So she presented it to me. I have to say at the time it really brought tears to my eyes. To see that my little hand had touched what was given me. My aunt used to watch me as a child and I must have forgotten to give it to my mother. I'm sure it would have been lost by the time they had discovered it again. Well during the period that this little hand was made it was a very sad time for my family. It was about two years after my mother and father had divorced. It was a year after I was molested by a man when I was four years old. The image of this little handprint brought back memories when that little hand had nails that were bitten off to the burning edges of the nail bed. This little girl was a very untrusting little girl. She worried a lot about what trauma would happen next in her life. At the time, my mother was very unstable as well. As I recalled my little hand, I remember they seemed to always be dirty. Of course, once I had a bath, they would be clean temporarily. The handprint reminds me of how anxious I was as a child. I need to add that during this time, autism wasn't even thought of, at least not in my family. I used to walk in circles, have meltdowns and stim. I used to isolate myself whenever possible. About three years later, my Mom had mentioned these characteristics to a doctor who informed her that those were signs of autism. Unfortunately, nothing was done to correct these "flaws", but through life, I learned to cope with it. I had trained myself to sit on my little hands in school, so other children wouldn't make fun of my stimming flaps. Learning was hard for me at first, but then my higher intellectual survival skills took over. I'll tell you I had aunts who used to love me a lot. They had a lot of patience. I had one aunt who would call my name over and over until I would respond to her. I had a Godfather who loved me to pieces and would hold me and talk to me when he would see me stimming away and getting agitated. A lot of these stories I heard later in life.
I had a belief system in my heart before I even knew who God was. I always say that at the age of four, I knew there was something greater than me. I used to talk to this being in my head. Especially after I was sexually abused. I wondered at the young age of four, why was I born. I asked why did that happen to me. I asked my Mom and she tried to tell me about the Bible, but my little mind couldn't comprehend. She tried to explain good and evil to me. When I think about my level of asking such a complex question at that age, it blows my mind. I was grateful when there were weddings in my family, because that is where I first knew about the Catholic Church and how beautiful everything in that parish was -- I guess you could say that is where I first met God. My greatest thrill was when it was completely quiet and I had the ability to swallow air and burp real loud, so I did. I did it over and over again, until I was scolded. So, I always say I knew who God was at the age of four and He has always been present in my life since that time.
I share about my anxious little hand, because for the better part of my life, I was full of anxiety. At the age of 12, I was baptized and accepted Christ as my savior. It was during this time, I learned about prayer and to go to God through Jesus and ask for forgiveness of my sins. I knew I could talk to him about everything and I did. I knew I was imperfect and was reminded by many of the people who loved me throughout my life. I made a lot of bad choices in my life, so up until my 30's I bit my nails. I was anxious about everything. As I got older, my relationship with Christ, matured. I dove into Bible Studies and was a regular church attendee. I served in many capacities. Through my maturity I read in Matthew 6:34 "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." (NKJV) -- I've tried to apply this verse to my life as much as possible. I will admit there are still those anxious times, but now I pray for strength to get me through and I don't take it out on my fingernails.
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