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.
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.