These past few weeks have been a little crazy! With the end of another school year, a kid who is going to be a freshman next year (how did that happen?!), and the longer/sunnier days I have been a little absent around here (Oh, I also decided to start a shop on Etsy; you know because things weren’t crazy enough! It’s something I’ve dreamed of doing for sometime and now it’s a reality! Check out the button on the sidebar to see some of my work and follow me on Facebook at Choose Happy Live Happy. My hope is to share little pieces of encouragement you can put around your home to remind you to Choose Happy).
On to the task at hand…
I am pretty I’ve shared before that I am a nurse. Well, I was a nurse; currently, I am staying home with my three lovelies and the great guy I get to call my husband!
I was braiding my daughter’s hair the other day and I happened to notice my hands. This is a task I have done probably a thousand times before, but for some reason I couldn’t help seeing how different my hands were. For one they are older! For another, they were kinda stained from working in the yard, and quite obviously, they were braiding hair that will not stop growing! Growing up that is! Could they just stop already, please?!!!
When I was a nursing student, I was always in awe of the expertise and care provided by my preceptor’s hands. The confidence displayed while placing an IV, disentangling lines, or administering medication was outstanding. Beyond that, there was the way these hands always provided care with a soft touch, even when force was needed. Or, the comfort they provided while doing even the most intrusive tasks; it’s simply amazing the strength a gentle touch conveys. Eventually, I became the nurse being watched by students and I was honored to be able to serve my patients in the same way; with my hands.
Lately, my hands feel a little idle. While, in my heart I know that homework, laundry, making dinner, packing lunches, breaking up fights, putting band-aids on, etc., is actually very important work, it seems like they need me a little less as the days go by. This got me thinking about how my hands had changed.
I used to look at my freshly washed new mom hands. The ones that changed diapers, cleaned up puke, and comforted the crying in one swoop. It was with tired eyes I would see them, and pray for the day that they would be able to rest. I used to look at my gloved RN hands. These hands started IV’s, washed the sick, comforted the dying, and celebrated with new parents. It was with wide eyes I would see them, full of fresh anticipation of what would happen next.
I have seen my hands intertwined with my husbands, drying the tears of a son who lost his big game, and steadying bikes ridden for the first time with two wheels! I have painted walls and art. I have held babies, toddlers, and yes, even a teenager, in the comfort of my hands. These hands have been objects of sympathy, anger, love, joy, and change.
So many changes.
Such good, and exhausting work.
Still feeling a tiny bit inadequate for what lies ahead.
Then I remember there is one thing that doesn’t change. One pair of hands that demonstrate consistency in a way I never could.
The hands that walk alongside me when life is good and carry me when it’s not.
The hands that catch me when I fall.
The hands that steady me in the storm and give me a touch of understanding when nothing makes sense.
I will choose happy this week because in the midst of chaos there will always be a pair of hands to strengthen me, to encourage me, and love me in the most unfailing way.
The hands of my Jesus are never changing, and yet they always fit into mine perfectly; changes and all.