Mom's Hands

We are bracing for winter here in Minnesota. Along with many other, more significant encumbrances (such as navigating icy sidewalks and driving on snow-packed roads), the season of winter means dry skin for me. As I looked down at my hands just recently, I noticed something that was somewhat surprising to me: I have my mom’s hands. I am now the age my mom was when I was 14. When I look down at my hands, I see the hands I remember my mom having. The veins on the back of my hands are big and blue, and they stick out. The skin around those veins has developed wrinkles that don’t go away, no matter the season. You should see that skin flap in those high-intensity, blaster hand driers. It’s as if it weren’t even attached to my hands.  All of a sudden, my hands look old. And seriously, they look just like my mom’s hands.

I think about my mom quite a bit at this time of year. She passed away on December 19, 1999 – fourteen years ago – which of course stirs up all sorts of emotions as we head into the Christmas season. My dad went to be with Jesus just ten days shy of ten years later, on December 9, 2009. This year, in their memory and honor, I want to talk about the hands that have helped shape my spiritual life. Mom and Dad come first, as they formed my foundation. They taught me about hard work and dedication. I learned from them about holding the things of this life loosely. They taught me about service to others. Helping your friends and family is not optional; it’s just what you do. They also taught me about the value of prayer and of reaching out to God in times of joy and in times of trial. Toward the end of my Dad’s life, I had the privilege of letting him lean on me as I got to use my hands to serve him. I miss that so much. I miss holding hands with Mom and Dad, and I think I always will.

The earthly hand I hold the most often and the most easily is that of my husband, R.J. Our hands come together often, as do our life goals. He has taught me the value of working to keep my intellect sharp, although I will admit to not being as good at that as he is. He has literally held my hand through my darkest days. I have literally almost squished his hand to death, during childbirth. His hand and mine fit perfectly together, and after 30 years of marriage, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My own children instantly started changing my life, even before they were born. When I finally got to hold them, their precious fingers only had to wrap around mine once for me to know that I would do anything for them. Their once-tiny hands are now adult hands. It all went by so quickly: the hand-holding, the hugging, the growing up….Their hands reminded me of how to discover and explore this world thoroughly on our journey. They reminded me of the joy of holding a child on my lap and a book in my hand, as we read hundreds, maybe thousands of books together during their growing-up years. Their hands are my legacy to the next generation, and I am so very proud of what I see those hands doing now.

Friends have always found their way into my life to hold my hand when I needed them most. Friends in college helped me fan the flame of my faith. Friends from church have brought me meals and prayed for me; one particularly dear friend, Janel, introduced me to MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). Through MOPS, I had the opportunity to join hands with a community of young moms as we learned from each other and grew together. It was through a friend that I first heard of Moms in Touch (now Moms in Prayer), which completely revolutionized my prayer life.  My friends here at the preschool are an amazing encouragement to me. I see the acts of service that they perform daily, both among our staff and for the families who bring their children here, and I am blessed.

We have pretty outstanding jobs at Kingdom Kids. We get to hold hands with preschoolers every day. We watch their hands rest on their hearts for our pledge of allegiance. Their little hands build with Legos, color pictures, write numbers and letters, dig in the sand, pick their noses, and get washed thoroughly. Our hands push swings, hug away tears, hold books, tie shoelaces, bandage owies, and get washed thoroughly. We get to put our hands together and pray for our students and their families. And sometimes, we get to watch God take the hand of a preschooler in our class as they begin a lifelong journey together.

The hand of God has been present throughout my life, sometimes manifesting itself through the loving kindness of family, friends, and even complete strangers, and sometimes manifesting itself in a very supernatural, “it could only be God” sort of way. These first 54 years have happened in the blink of an eye, and now I find myself with my mom’s hands. I can only hope I use them with the same compassion and strength that she did, for as long as God gives me here on earth. “The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy; they are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness.” Psalm 111:7-8

The following video represents the many hands that have impacted my life in a multitude of ways. I pray that you will feel the joy and love I have received. Hands of Faithfulness video

Remember: “…the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.” Psalm 100:5