Each morning, when my alarm goes off, I have to remind myself to reach for my phone (my alarm) with my non-dominant hand. A simple enough thought that feels unbelievably complex in those first few minutes of consciousness. Nine times out of ten muscle memory wins and I struggle to pick up my phone as the thumb on my right hand refuses to bend. There’s a fancy name for it, but the simpler term is “trigger thumb,” and right now mine needs a little help and a lot of patience at the start of every day.

In the grand scheme of things it’s a mild annoyance and I know that when it gets truly bad (and/or when I’ve met my medical deductible for the year) I can get a referral from my doctor to see a hand specialist and get an injection that should help. In the meantime, I’ve decided to use it as an unofficial spiritual practice during Lent – an out of the ordinary reminder to really think about what I’m holding onto these days and the blessing of losing one’s grip.

So much of what I cling to – both the tangible, physical objects in my life and the concepts and beliefs I hold dear – happens in a manner similar to reaching for my phone before I’m fully awake. I do it out of habit, familiarity, pure muscle memory. But, when the act of holding something requires me to think about it first, I begin to evaluate needs versus wants, habit versus choices, and am pleasantly surprised by some of the things I’ve stopped reaching for.

Now, take another look at the picture with this post. This book – Hold On, Let Go – arrived yesterday (can you say serendipity?), a gift from a kindred spirit who is always finding new ways to simultaneously encourage and challenge me. Each entry in the book is deceptively brief, but I’ve decided that makes them perfect for reading more than once. And when I was tempted to barrel through multiple entries in one sitting, my trigger thumb refused to accommodate a rushed turning of the page. This odd little ailment reminded me to stop, take in what was already in my hands, and recognize it was enough.