To Be His Hands

“I don’t want to do this,” said David, our ministry host standing in front of me.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked, my varnish-covered hands curled in the space between the two of us.

He shook his head and pour some mystery substance from a vinegar-bottle onto a washcloth and hesitated before rubbing it on my hands.

He’d told me it’d burn and stink.

I’d told him my hands were sticking together.

Keep reading at KatieAxelson.com