Saturday, November 11, 2006
Reaching up to Mom's hand as I crossed the street. Daring to gently grasp the hand of the girl next to me on a hay ride. Holding Barbara's hand as I slid her wedding ring into place. Seeing each of our four babies grow until they could wrap my pinky in their tiny hand. Covering the hand of a friend as she mourned. Seizing the hand of another friend in a warm greeting. Holding the hands of small children whom I welcomed to Sunday School. Lifting my hands up to my father in heaven while praying for him to reach down and touch me. Moving the lifeless hand of my earthly father soon after he died. Reaching out for Barbara's hand with the faint beginnings of age spots on hers and my own. Holding hands, a kind of miracle every time.