My Fingers Sweat! (subtitle: I have finally joined the human race)

I never believed it would happen.  I never hoped it would happen.  I never expected or anticipated it would happen - but is has.  For the first time in my life, at least the first time in my memory of my life (which admittedly is not as complete as the life itself), I have accomplished an act of humanity heretofore witheld from me....my fingers sweat. 

My husband can sweat buckets, and after a full day of working outside in the summertime his shirts are so sweat-logged that I can literally wring them out and make puddles on the floor.  My son sweats; with his current army buzz cut the little droplets of sweat sit on his scalp like dew resting on blades of grass awaiting further orders.  My daughters sweat, all of them, and I have the stinky laundry and empty containers of deodorant to prove it.  Even little Emma can moisten her armpits after a good play session.  My brothers and sisters sweat, my neighbors sweat, my friends sweat.  In fact, it is my understanding and a commonly held belief that all humans sweat.  Except me.  Until now.  

To truly understand the significance of this sweating event, you must understand that I am not a sweater and never have been.  When I get hot my face turns a deep shade of red and starts to swell like a balloon.  Torso and limbs may warm up a little, but nothing to write home about.  My hands and my feet never seem to retain any body heat whatsoever, so they have no opportunity to get the hot party started.  If  "cold hands means a warm heart" is valid, then I am the warmest hearted person on the planet.  The best I have been able to accomplish thus far from my physical exertions is a mild form of heat stroke.

Life changed and my very existence redefined itself last week.  Hannah and I were coming home from our 3.3 mile run.  We were about 30 minutes into it and on the home stretch.  The weather was cool, the fall foliage glorious.  Normally when I run I am concentrating on keeping my breathing even and my feet moving.  I am in survival mode and conserve all my mental and physical energy for the task at hand.  This day was different; somehow the route seemed easier, and the beauty of God's glorious creation was just too spectacular to ignore.  I let my mind wander where it would, and at that moment my brain sent the unexpected message, "You need to wipe your hands.  Your fingers are sweating!"  I looked down, and sure enough my fingers on each hand were glistening. Surprised and amazed, I called Hannah over as a witness to the perspiration miracle.

Since that run last week I have had "glowing digits" several more times.  As further confirmation, during Tuesday's Modern class I was not the coldest person in the room.  My body, including my chronically cold mitts, was more comfortable in the cool temps of the classroom than the strapping, healthy young lad who said he was freezing.  Perhaps my warm heart is cooling down because of the stress and strain in my life; perhaps not,  but for sure my fingers are warming up.  I believe the evidence is to strong to ignore - I have joined the human race.