My Hands

My hands are not perfect. They are beginning to get age spots and creases along the knuckles.

But as I look at my hands, I recall the many wonderful moments with my children they have experienced.

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My fingers gently stroked their soft cheeks and held them close to my heart the very first moment we met.

My hands wiped their tears, tucked in blankets, and made lunches.

They held kite strings, picked up countless Lego’s, and sewed on scout patches.

These hands held on tightly while crossing the street or offering comfort.

They clapped with joy at first steps, school performances, little league games and academic achievements ~ both large and small.

They combed and braided hair, folded laundry, and buttoned shirts.

They have touched shoulders, waved in greeting, and pushed in playful gestures.

These hands waved goodbye as each one of my children left to find their way in this world and softly wiped the tears off my own face as I smiled.

They fold in prayer daily.

My hands are an extension of my heart.

“For all the things my hands have held the best by far is you” 

Andrew McMahon, Lyrics from Cecilia and the Satellite, July 2014.

8 thoughts on “My Hands

  1. Amazing post. I was just thinking along these lines the last few months, noting spots on my hands, less strength in the body. I have seen and shared, some wonderful things in this aging body though.

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    • Thank you! I know, I could write about my legs, eyes, etc. Was feeling sentimental about my children when I wrote this. I have thought it would be nice to go back and live just one more of those days, but I think it would just make me wish for more of them as I now realize how very precious those days were I would wallow in each moment. Maybe we can do this in heaven!?

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