A Mother’s Hands

A mother’s hands are the first to receive you when you enter this world.

A mother’s hands were the first to reach out to you when you cried in hunger, anger, desperation, frustration as an infant still unable to string words together. They brought relief and reassured you that all is well with the world. Her hands made you feel safe.

A mother’s hands were your first playmates in life. She introduced you to toys, stories, and games that opened up the world of playtime.

A mother’s hands were the first to clap when you sat up for the first time, took your first steps, and picked you up when you stumbled.

A mother’s hands were the ones who brought you to school, reluctantly let go of yours, knowing that she could not protect you from the world beyond her arms. Her hands were also the first to welcome you home after the day was done.

A mother’s hands patiently sat with you through long homework hours, after school activities, play dates, and field trips. Her hands built a world for you so that you may be nourished emotionally, mentally and socially.

A mother’s hands taught you how to fold your hands together in prayer and taught you all about angels and miracles. They are all she has to hang on to when she is at her wits end learning how to juggle housework, childrearing, and career, picking up after you.

A mother’s hands were the most loyal ones to cheer you on in all your endeavours, trials and triumphs, and defining moments. Her hands were also the first to wipe the tears away when things did not go according to your plan.

A mother’s hands has wiped countless tears of anger, frustration, desperation, anxiety, fear, and uncertainty while trying to hold the family and herself together. Her hands made it possible for you to spread your wings.

A mother’s hands taught you how to share and care, how to give and receive. Her hands taught you all about generosity and kindness.

A mother’s hands hold on to you when your world is crumbling and you have made bad decisions in life. These are the hands that defend you when nobody else will. Her hands will offer a safe haven and guide you back to the path.

A mother’s hands are the last to accept that you are an adult and no longer need hers to hold on to build your own life. Her aged hands are not pretty, but rough and worn out from all the years of cooking, cleaning, working, comforting, decorating, packing, and hugging.

A mother’s hands will seek reassurance from you when her body, mind and spirit let her down. One hand will hold on to a walking stick or your arm while the other will tell you a story and recall a memory.

A mother’s hands are the last to leave you.

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