The Hand I’ll Never Wash

At the San Antonio Rodeo and later at a WNBA game, our daughter gets up-close moments with her heroes — a singer riding the arena and a dominant player’s sweaty high five — each becoming a treasured mark she vows not to wash away. At a celebration service, communion with bread dipped in wine leaves a drop in the palm of my hand that evokes the nails of the crucifixion and the deep meaning of remembrance: sacrifice, grace, and a lasting, personal connection.