Whose are these, these fingers, that tamp gently upon my face? Layer after layer of plaster strips softened, gently pressed then smoothed upon the ridges and folds of my cheeks, nose and chin. I hear the quiet comments of one daughter to another saying, Here, and, There, and I relax into another year of camp where the years themselves layer, each upon the other, creating one memory from many memories that I will take to the gates on my death and say, These days, these moments, were the finest of my life.
Countless-Faced One, who speaks to us through Moses, whose face shining bright with holy knowledge makes the people afraid, remove the masks that enshroud our hearts from love; place them as veils, as masks, over our lips to protect all others from our cruel words and thoughtless deeds. Amen.