These Hands

I sneak into Glory’s room each morning to sing her a little song and see her sweet, morning smile. She’s always been such a ray of happy sunshine any time of day.  I enjoy her company so very, very much.

It’s funny to me …. an oxymoron  or juxtaposition of sorts.  While she’s a happy ray of sunshine, she doesn’t like her blinds open in her room.  I LOVE a bright, open room flooded with light.  She likes a small little room that is cozy and snugly.

I have to be careful in the morning.  While I want to walk in and throw up the sashes to let the morning light flood her space, that’s a sure way to ruin her morning.

The other morn when I walked in, I slid up the shade just a touch. I was struck by her hand… still and bathed in sunlight.


This hand cares for children when she babysits.
It holds tight to a young man that I favor.
It clears tables and serves at a local restaurant.
It grasps keys to a truck that takes her all over our town.
It holds a pencil when she writes about British lit, Spanish and math.
It taps on keys to blog her innermost thoughts.
It turns crisp pages of a Bible when she reads about her Creator.
It straightens rumpled bed covers, tousles the hair of kindergartners and points across the room.
It opens doors, closes the milk
and holds a straightener to press her wavy locks.
It is always in motion, open to help others
and ….
it will soon be gone.
It will serve somewhere else.

The day will soon come when this sweet child of mine will move away.  She will go off to college or get married. And she’ll be gone.
This thought is different from what I thought it would be.  I’ve always thought it was odd when parents were sad that their children moved out.  I’ve always thought that it had to do with control …. or not wanting to let go and give their children freedom.

And I’m sure, for some parents, that is the case.

But I will be losing much more than control. I will be losing a friend.  I will miss my daughter. I will miss her presence. I will miss her sharing. I will miss her smile, her laugh and her secrets. I will miss her asking advice, her ever ringing cell phone and her ever helpful attitude. I will miss her.

For now, I cherish the mornings.  I tiptoe in and quietly wake her.  I only open her blinds a little bit.  We talk. She shares about the night before (as I always seem to be in bed when she comes in from work, church or an evening with her “cute boyfriend”) and I listen.

These are sweet days…. fleeting. I will miss them, soon.

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