The Hands That We Hold

Dear Little Bigglets,
Today is Mother's Day, which is always a day of reflection for me. The year I found out I was expecting for the first time  the reflection changed from,  "Have I been a good daughter to my mother?" to "How in the world can I be a good Mother?" I still struggle with that question 7 years later.

This year I think about you kids, and the unique ages and stages I am mothering the 5 of you through.

 Vaida, you are a sweet one year old baby. You amaze me with your intuition and gentle caring ways. Whether a brother is in tears with  a skinned knee or sitting on the steps pouting because his mean mother put him in time out again, I witness you caressing his back nuzzling him and leaning down to kiss his cheek.  These things you may have observed but certainly never been taught to do yet. Your brothers melt before my eyes receiving your gentle reassurance. We hold your hand, baby girl, to keep you from stumbling when you clumsily climb or toddle along, a happy reminder for us to slow down a bit and savor what you are seeing or expressing for the first time. It's adorable how you raise your little hand up to your ear like you are on the phone (another reminder to mommy of how much you watch what I do).

Dane, or "Daney Waney" my little two year old brute, most of the time mommy holds your hand to keep you from running into oncoming traffic, keep you from being overly ambitious at climbing the big boy jungle gym or to lead you to a quiet seat to read "No David" for the hundredth time. Your little chubby hands seem to always have a bandaid from an owie you earned from taming the wild beast that lives within. I love the way your little brown eyes smile and look up at me with excitement when I'm holding your hands under the running water to wash up for snack time. You are my little foodie.

Bo, you are 4 going on 5. I hold your hand most often when we are learning penmanship. You love to write things independently and got so excited the other day when you wrote "sheepdog" correctly all by yourself! You love when I hold your hands to swing you around or to play ring around the rosie. Your little hands love to help me cook, and take such pride in drawing chalk pictures of you and I in the driveway. Your hands are so gentle when playing with Vaida, but strong when helping daddy move rocks, or from being patient and submissive just a bit to long to your big brothers.

Ty and Cole, you are 6 this Mother's Day. Something you did yesterday has me reflecting the most this year. As we walked into Kroger I dangled my hand to my side, palm spread open. Within a second I felt you slide your little hand into my grasp. There was no pause. No delay. Your hand was just there. My heart began to ache. You are both wise well beyond your years in so many ways, but very much still my little boys. How many more dangles will it take before I feel it? That second of apprehension, that moment of decision. When will I look down and not see your grubby, nail bitten fingers riding in my fist without a moment of thought? It all happens simultaneously in the blink of an eye; everything changes the moment that pause comes between your hand and mine. The next time you feel that ambiguity in reverse, you will be standing next to Becky Jones in the Red Rover line, a mix of jumbled up feelings of wanting to reach out but pausing a bit resisting...every day closer to that natural tendency to grab hold and every day further from what we have now.

That moment will come for each of you, Vaida's not as soon. That is why tonight, like every other night, after we read our bedtime stories (Huckleberry Finn tonight) I tuck you in tight, and I wander out to my solitude of insomnia, I give you up to The Lord, you are His before mine. I think of His son's hands and the pain God felt when the nails pierced his one and only. My heartache pales in comparison. So, I will pray. I wonder, did my wonderful mother-in-law who prays for me now, always pray for me the way my mother prayed for my future husband? I will continue to pray every night for the hands that will hold you when they are no longer mine. I pray for your future wives and their mothers, that they are raising their girls to be patient (very patient) and full of grace, gentle and kind. I pray their mothers make Jesus a priority in their lives. Dane I pray your wife loves to cook and has a passion for sports. Bo, I pray your wife has a gentle spirit like you but is outgoing and fun to challenge you. Ty, I pray that your girl is confident like you,  but being trained to submit as you are. Cole I pray for a young woman who has a great sense of humor and that you will keep each other laughing and shares your passion for learning. Vaida, I pray your husband is a mix of all the good things you see in your brothers and his hands are always as gentle to you as you are to your brothers. I hope someone out there is praying for you, too.

Next year's Mothers Day will be different, there won't be as many handprints on the windows, and there will be more hands working in the yard. This Mother's Day I am choosing to be thankful for the little hands I hold this year,  and savor this day and this moment.