"Whatsoever your hands find to do, do it with all your might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, where thou goest."
I have always loved hands. Even as a little girl I would notice hands. When I was little I longed for hands that were long and slender with fingernails that clicked. I used to watch cashiers punching numbers and think, "Wow. So fancy!" (I would put scotch tape around the tips of my fingernails and play store for hours.) However, there are some hands that mean more to me than being fancy or flashy. In fact, to other people they are average looking hands, but to me they will be hands that I never forget. My daddy's hands have always looked so strong. Mama's hand playing the piano always look graceful but powerful. One grandfather always wore a Masonic ring, and the other picks his fingernails with a pocket knife. There is my grandmother's "special little hand" and Leilei's hands teaching me to quilt, helping me pick fabrics. James Henry picking his fingernails and driving Sister insane. Sister's hands that have always looked soft to me, and everything my hands are not. Zachary Ryan's hands can look so rugged to me, like when he was coming home from a training after a week of being gone when he was in the Marine Corps. Those hands can also look skilled and almost tender when holding a stethoscope to listen to our babies breathe. Hands. I don't know why I like them, but they are always something that sticks out in my mind and memories.
The other day, I was being forced to take a nap with the little ones. I mean really really FORCED! While Wade was falling asleep that day, he reached up and grabbed my hand. (He loves to hold hands, and I will gladly hold those hands until he stops needing that from me.) He has the cutest little, short, chubby fingers. On this day, they were a little bit sticky and very hot. I was looking at those fingers holding on to mine, and I realized that these hands are changing. One day they will be a man's hands and will grow to be bigger than mine. One day they will drive a car, take a test, fill out applications, love a wife, and hold a sweet baby. In that moment, I was filled with prayer. I want to be the Mama that guides my children to be people that have a relationship with Christ, that grow up to have happy homes. People that have dreams and desires. As their mama, I want to lead them to be the people that they hope to be, and keep those sweet fingers from any harm. Those little fingers that I know I can't always shelter or keep from pain, because they have to experience hurt to grow up, but I hope my hands are always there to catch them before they fall too far.
There's another set of hands that I haven't been able to see yet, and these hands will mean the most to me. One day, when I'm done with this world and I'm facing the Savior of the universe, he will reach out his hand for me. It will be a hand with a scar in the middle. It will be a hand that has held me my whole life, but I will finally be able to see it with my eyes. Oh what a day that will be!
A week later, they were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas,
"Put your fingers here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!" Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen, you believe. Blessed are those that believe but eyes have not yet seen."
John20:26-29
