Hands

It's Winter. It's flu season. And I just was forwarded a rather disgusting email which gave me more knowledge than I ever asked for of the many many places my hands can pick up germs and viruses such as the flu. Elevator buttons, escalator handrails, my kitchen dishcloth...etc. Why I know all of this info. is good to be aware of, the truth of the matter is I cannot SEE the germs that come in contact with my hands in any given day.

Having said that, I saw something profound today as my eyes were closed.

We were sitting down to dinner as a family, and grasped hands to pray before our meal of "breakfast for dinner". (A very fun and special treat I used to love as a kid). I normally grasp hands with Brooks and Peyton, but for some reason it was Brooks and Christian's hands I was linked to tonight. As Kenny said thanks, I couldn't focus on anything but the striking contrast between my 2 year old's and my 10 year old's hands. Brooksie's hands are as soft as silk, his skin as squishy as butter, I could just rub the top of his hand against my cheek all day and not tire of the adorably sweet feel of it. Christian's hand was like that at one time, I'm sure of it. But as I held his slender hand in mine, there were no similarities between the two. Christian's hands are thin, as is his whole figure at this point. They are rough with callouses from the monkey bars the basketball, the usual rocks and mud and sand of the school yard. He has hangnails. He has dirty nails! He has scars already that will mark his precious hands for life. And yet, I love those hands just as much as Brooksie's beautifully perfect younger hands. I was struck, not by Kenny's prayer, but by how fast my children are growing and changing every year, every day. A phenomenon I never examined before I became a mother.

God, help me make the most of each day I mother my boys. As fast as they change and grow on the outside, change them on the inside to look and grow more and more like you.