A Mother's Hands

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A dear sister shared the most beautiful tribute to motherhood today at church. I will do my best to record the words she spoke.
Sister Harker said,
A few weeks ago, my youngest daughter had her first baby. My emotions were very close to the surface. I repeated over and over that I couldn't believe my baby was having a baby.
After the baby's birth, the nurse was doing what she's supposed to do: scrubbing and cleaning and pricking. Ellie was doing what a newborn is supposed to do: crying at the top of her lungs. I decided to reach out and touch Ellie's hand in hopes of making her first few minutes of life more comforting. Ellie wrapped her little hand around one of my fingers.
Holding hands is one of the greatest ways we connect with one another.
As I thought about these hands, I reflected on the hands of my mother. She used her hands to hold me and comfort me as a baby. She held my hand as I experienced the new things in life. She used her hands to clap for me at my dance recitals even though I wasn't very good; she thought I was good. She clasped her hands in prayer in my behalf. She held my hand on my wedding day and let it go so that I could take the hand of the man who would be my eternal companion.
I don't know when it happened, but one day the roles reversed. I now held her hand. I held her hand as I guided her through the grocery store. I held her hand as I took her to get her hair done. I held her hand, aged and covered in brown spots and deep blue veins, as she passed from this life. I look at my own hands and see how they are beginning to resemble hers.
I find joy now as I watch my own daughters as they use their hands to comfort, guide, cheer, and pray for their own children.
I see a mother's hands, and I feel love.

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