My Dad joined mine and Monkey's hands on our wedding day. Overcome with emotion for the Sacrament and being surrounded by those we love, tears began to fall from my eyes. Monkey caressed my cheek and wiped the tears away with his hand.
With each of our babies, I remember their beautiful little fists tightly gripping my finger. When they would sleep, their hand would relax and I would hold it open and trace the palm, dreaming of what this small little hand could and would do one day. I would lay their hand in mine and wonder how long it would be until our hands would be the same size.
The eyes may be the window to the soul, but our hands help to tell our story.
We work with them. We serve with them. We love with them. We protect with them. We discipline with them. We teach with them. We create with them. We pray with them.
When my child is scared or anxious, I hold his hand. And sometimes, it is he who holds mine.
Our hands help us to work; one way of honoring our human dignity.
We are called to use our hands to love and serve.
photo courtesy of Tina Fisher Photography |
We use our hands to pray.
photo courtesy of Tina Fisher Photography |
photo courtesy of Tina Fisher Photography |
At the end of each day, our hands can tell a story. What is your story? How did you work and serve? What did you discover and learn? How did you love? How were you the hands of Jesus?
"God wants to reach out to others through your hands. He wants to speak to others through your lips, and God wants others to look into your eyes and see Him... give God permission."
- John Cardinal O'Connor
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