Handy

 May 13, 2021

I got to musing today of the gratitude prompt for the yesterday: “three things held in hand,” and began to think of all the different things I’ve held in my hands over the years. I remember holding my firstborn for the first time, how scared I was, worrying that I’d drop him, thinking how tiny he was, how totally dependent on Linda and me for all his needs. It’s been a long time since Nathan depended on us for his needs. He grew up, married, became a father himself, but the memory of that first day is indelibly etched on my mind.

Hands are pretty amazing. Closed tightly, they become a fist, lifted in defiance, wielded in defense, instruments of brutality, evidence of frustration. Opened, they can either caress or slap, grasp or release, finger the notes on a piano, thread a needle, hold a jackhammer, wave in greeting or signal an execution; today they grasped my Bible, a tote filled with bees, a steering wheel, a shovel, a fork, a hose, a smoker, and a beehive. They held the tv remote so I could watch my granddaughter’s volleyball game. They didn’t hold my bass tonight; I ran out of time.

Most importantly, these hands will draw my wife close tonight. Except when watching tv, she often has trouble falling asleep, so my hands will pull her near. She sleeps well in my arms while my hands go numb. It’s OK; these hands also hold her heart, as hers do mine. I am blessed, and very thankful tonight for hands that though not as strong as once they were, are still able to function.