I have a tattoo. I’ve had it for a long time. Although you may have yet to notice, it is not hidden, though seldom seen. It is not secret, yet rarely mentioned. 

Not on my neck to be concealed. Not on my chest to be covered. Not on my back to be forgotten. But on a place where I can remember daily. 

It is not of a site that I have visited. Not of a triumph that I have prided. Not of a deed that I have accomplished. But of a person most precious to my soul.

Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My Hands.

When I act, I always remember your fragile frame. When I healed. When I touched. When I journeyed. When I wrote on the ground. Each time I saw you there upon My Hand.

No one can snatch you out of My grip for you are indelibly etched there. Not with paint to disappear. Not with henna to dissolve. Not with ink to dim. But with a nail that pierced.

Whether My palms reach, extend, or spread; Grip, clinch, or grasp, I see you in the scar.

Come near. Look at Me. See My hands and My feet? Touch Me. Examine Me. Believe Me. I have you in My Heart as well as in My Hand.

You say, ‘”The Lord has turned away and forgotten us.”

But I, the Lord, answer: “Could a mother forget a child who nurses at her breast? Could she fail to love an infant who came from her own body? Even if a mother could forget, I will never forget you. A picture of (you) is drawn on My Hand. You are always in My Thoughts! (Isaiah 49:14-16 CEV)

“And He said to them, ‘Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself; touch Me and see'” (Luke 24:38-39).