Hands On

Aging is not something that I think much about.  Today I looked down at my hands and I thought, my hands are beginning to look older.  When we see people we know and love we may see other signs like, graying hair, wrinkled skin, but I never look at any ones hands and think their hands are beginning to look older.

I began thinking about the journey my hands have been on.  As a young girl they were always busy be it with my baby dolls or coloring, learning to button, zip  & tie my own shoes.  They were my vehicle for writing in school.  They were instrumental in learning to drive.  Perhaps though the most important job they have had is they are the hands of a mother.

These hands showed strength as I pushed my babies into this world and seconds later were gentle in caressing their faces.  Before long these hands were changing diapers, washing faces, blowing noses, feeding mouths, holding little hands, then later pushing swings, letting go of bikes, bandaging knees, drying tears. 

 Later still these hands braided hair, tied ties, held little hands that were afraid, these hands packed many lunches, wrote many notes, washed many loads of laundry, and still dried tears.

These hands signed adoption papers that allowed me to start all over again when I wasn't ready to stop mothering.

These hands waved goodbye to college bound kids , placed a veil on my daughters head, pinned a boutonniere on my sons lapel on his wedding day, and these hands again dried tears.

These hands wrote cards and letters to a son serving his country, they packed boxes filled with love and longing to reach out and use these hands to touch him.
These hands came together in prayer many times for his protection, And these hands again dried tears.

These hands had the privilege of painting and designing a nursery for my first grandchild but what a greater Honor they had to be useful during my daughters labor.  These hands that once were young and caressed her tiny body now rubbed her back and her feet while she was performing a labor of love.  These hands held her hand as she brought forth a new life, and these hands once again dried tears.

Grandma hands that what I have now.  I think they are still beautiful.  These hands get to hold this precious child, they have the opportunity to teach a new generation. 

Take a look at your hands and if you are a mom thank God for all the ways he has allowed you to use your hands to Bless your children. 

I have concluded that my hands have played an intricate role in the life of my children.  I held their hands as long as I could and then these same hands lovingly set them free to begin using their own hands to Bless the lives of others.