About Those Hands

They hold us.

They carry us.

They guide us.

We use our hands to introduce who we are, to do good works, to celebrate with applause and to wipe unexpected tears.

Today, my hands made meals filled with love and without concern for calories. They changed loads of laundry and dishes, moving in their own rhythm while I listened intently to a 9-year-old’s tale. They conducted medical treatments and turned book pages smoothly, as if independent from my aching heart when our sweet, feisty 2-year-old fought the daily patterns. They gave hugs, wiped noses and swept hair out of the eyes of sleeping children in the effortless beat of exhausted motherhood.

They held me steady in plank and energized me in child’s pose. They stretched for the sky in mountain pose then rested palms up on my mat in shavasana.

And yet, the strongest hands I felt this weekend were not mine.

They were helping hands.

Those of a friend who made time just to sit on the couch and sift through some uncertainties of life. Those of a family member who unexpectedly folded the piles of laundry I dreaded while caring for our kiddos last night. Those of a leader who gently asked if she could take back something previously assigned, rather than judging my lack of showing up.

Helping hands.

Whether you give them or receive them this week, friend, may they be strong, stable, gentle and kind.