Monday, March 7, 2016
I look at my husbands hands and I see rough hard working calloused and scarred hands. Hands that work hard every single day to provide for us. I see hands that have held our newborn daughter...cuddled her when she was afraid...hands that have wiped away tears from his own eyes as he beamed with pride at the girl she has become. His hands have held mine in moments of doubt...moments of worry...moments of love. His hands are strong and safe.
I look at my daughters hands and I see determination. I see the tiny holes in her fingertips...memories of how much she's endured and how far she's come on this journey. Her hands have created beauty unimaginable already. Her hands are soft and yet more sure and steady than I could hope for. Her hands are an extension of her humour as she tells a story making me laugh until tears fall uncontrollably from my eyes. Her hands have patted my back as she sought to comfort me when I have been unwell or sad or worried. Her hands have pet our cat...loving her like no one can. Her hands have endured so much pain in her short 12 years...and yet when I look at them, I see all the potential in the world is right at her fingertips. The lines on her palms...the way they embrace any challenge that comes her way. I look at her hands and I see power.
Our hands together represent what family means to me. Love, laughter, strength, and grace.
Posted by sky0138 at 9:35 AM