5 Minute Fridays/ Emotional Health/ Love/ Spiritual

My Hands In His Hands

MY HANDS-IN-His-Hands

{participating in 5 Minute Friday-write for 5 minutes, with a prompt.  Unscripted. Unedited. Real.}

Prompt–Hands.

Go:

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I look at my hands and  see my mom’s hands.  I smile, I always thought she had the most beautiful of hands.

I think of all that has touched my hands…the things my hands have touched.

My little girl hands, holding a favorite Holly Hobby doll

My big sister hands, taking care of my little brother and little sisters, playing real house  while Mom has an outing.

My teenage hands, holding on to a boy’s for the first time & the thrill.

Hands in hair, I learn cosmetology.

Hands in chemicals everyday, I wonder if it contributed to my cancer.

Both my hands, holding his while dressed in white, saying vows.

The way his suit felt under my hand during our first dance as newlyweds. I’ll never forget that feeling of bliss.

His face, my hands feel the 5 o’clock shadow forming, I love this handsome husband of mine.

Her hands, our first-born, so premature tiny & perfect…attached to all 5 pounds of her.

My middle girl, her hands blue, shows the trauma of her birth.

The birth of my Avery, my Grandma Thelma’s soft hands on my arm while in active labor, her most precious prayer “May God be gracious to you, may His face shine upon you, and give you peace.”

Baby Avery hands, held by mine through an incubator,  fear – filled moments, yet peace.

My hands balled in fists, doing battle with God, leaning that pain grows me.

Hands lifted in praise to my Savior, how can I keep from singing and shouting His name?

Wringing in anxiety, these hands.

Hands making and serving food, my favorite way to love my family.

Fingers moving, typing, this dream job of mine called a blog.

Hands numb from the shock of a cancer diagnosis.

Tissues in hands, wiping away tears.

Hands can’t move, chemo lays heavy.

Top of hands bruised from multiple I.V. tries. It is surgery time.

Feeling for lumps and bumps, fingers roaming, wondering often if it is really over.

Date nights, always holding hands, high heels make me the perfect height to hold comfortably.

Her hands now anxious, mine learned and is learning release.  I work again to keep them open, for she belongs to Him.

Lying in bed, the heat of his body next to mine,my hand reaches out and find familiar.  Flesh of my flesh.

These life moments my hands have touched– have touched my hands– all the while in God’s.

His hands?  He’s got it all….  for He’s got the whole world in His hands!

———

Stop.

 

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