With These Hands

I meet with a couple of friends once a month to pray for our kids. We share about our triumphs and trials as mothers, support each other in prayer and work through the prayers offered in Stormie Omartian's book "The Power of a Praying Parent." We met last Monday, and since I was feeling quite discouraged in my role as a mom, I spent a good portion of the night unloading onto my unsuspecting friends! It was good to talk to other mothers who I quickly realized have gone through the same things I've been experiencing. And it was great to be able to pray about it with others. I'm a verbal processor, so it's amazing how much smaller my problems seem as soon as I talk about them and feel validated.

On my way home, however, I was listening to praise 106.5. A Family Life program was on, discussing preparing your teen for post-graduation life. I'm really good at tuning out talk radio, especially when it has nothing to do with my own life. But they began to read a poem that caught my attention. It made me realize just how fleeting my moments are with my kids here at home. I know in the blink of an eye I'll be at Nate's graduation, or sending Cody off to college and my heart will ache, wanting to hold them on my lap for bedtime snuggles just one last time. While my days seem long and mundane as a stay at home mom right now, it's only for a brief time and I know I'll never be able to get this time back. So here's that poem that brought tears to my eyes. I'd give credit to whoever wrote it, but they didn't say... It was the youth pastor at their church, at a service centered around sending off their high school grads.

WITH THESE HANDS

With these hands, I gently cradled this child;
Held him close to my heart,
Nursed his wounds and calmed her fears,
Held the books that I would read
And rock this child fast asleep.

With these hands, I made his lunches
And drove the car that carried her to school;
Snapped endless pictures, wrapped countless gifts,
Then did my best to assemble those gifts.

Combed his hair and wiped her tear,
Let her know that I was near
To nurse his wounds and heal her heart
When it would break.

With these hands, I made mistakes,
And with these hands I prayed and prayed and prayed.

These hands are feeble, these hands are worn,
These hands can no longer calm the storms;
These hands have done all they can do;
These hands now release this child, my child
To You.

For Your hands are able,
Your hands are strong,
Your hands alone can calm the storms.
Your hands will continue to do
What they are so gifted to do,

To shape his life and make her new,
Into Your hand receive this child,
For my child I now give back to You.

In the strong name of Jesus,
And with all my heart I pray,
Amen.