These hands have held newborns — babies, kittens, puppies, kids (the goat kind).
These hands have caressed the faces of people I loved while they were on display in a casket in a funeral home.
These hands have planted seeds and seedlings and tended them, while ripping out anything that looked like a weed that might threaten them.
These hands have rubbed sunscreen on the shoulders of my children, my husband, my son’s white 4-H pigs.
These hands have ended life. They’ve slaughtered chickens and turkeys. Squashed countless bugs and mosquitos. But not spiders. Never spiders.
These hands have set a goose’s broken leg with a couple of sticks and a stretch bandage. The duck always had a limp, but at least he was walking!
These hands have held knitting needles, crochet hooks, sewing thread and a crossbow.
These hands have shot a BB gun, a muzzleloader and a longbow. They missed every target they were aiming at, but hitting the target wasn’t the point.
These hands have brushed, cut, permed, dyed and shaved hair.
These hands bear the rings from my love and the scars from my offspring.
These hands, sometimes, don’t look like mine. I often look at them and see my mother’s or my sister’s hands. Should I give them back?
These hands have held pencils, pens, markers, paint brushes and keyboards (both computer and piano).
These hands have wiped away dirt, blood and tears from myself and others I love.
These hands have sewn seams, hems, blankets and goat skin.
These hands have wiped the behinds of many — myself, my children, my adult son, my parents.
These hands have clipped branches, toenails, and stray threads.
These hands have held hands, dirty tissues, baby throw-up and a newly lost tooth.
These hands have comforted a baby boy after a fall, that same boy after a seizure and still the same boy after a devastating disappointment.
These hands have wiped out the dry, crusty mouth of a baby on a ventilator and that same child nearly 30 years later, again on a ventilator.
These hands have waved good-bye to dear friends and relatives, hopes and dreams, and the ability to see around my belly to my thighs.
These hands have embraced change, loved ones and gray hair.
These hands, my hands, have served me well and will continue to do so until the day I go to my grave.
Until next week,
Susie from Stix-N-Stonez
P.S. –We have a Facebook group now! If you are looking for ways to be supported and to support others, please consider joining the Stix-N-Stonez Facebook Group.