Strong Hands in the Winter

winter lightDepositphotos

One of the hardest adjustments to losing my mom early in life has been the inability to pick up the phone and talk to her. I can’t reminisce with her. I would love to experience adult to adult conversations with her.

I would love to listen to her talk about things she is passionate about, or to get her perspective on current events or to hear, again, the story of when Jesus showed up and changed everything in her life.

I would love to shoot the breeze with her, to go out for coffee together, to poke fun at each other, to share inside jokes and listen to her laugh, to hold her hand…anything, really.

Speaking of holding, I would have loved to have seen her hold and cuddle at least one of her grandchildren.

The last couple of nights my 11 year-old son has rested his head on my lap and has extended his arm for me to tickle. It takes me back to when I was a little girl. I would often stretch out in the same position on the couch and my mom would tickle my arms too. The other night I studied my hands as they moved up and down my son’s arm. They remind me of her hands.

I then thought about me at my son’s age. When I was 11 my mom was 48 and it would be two more years before the word cancer would invade our world. We were completely oblivious to the challenge waiting around the corner. In all honesty, it was wonderful. Innocence usually is, those moments before your world is rocked, before everything changes, and before you have no other choice but to adjust to a new normal.

I wish I could shield my son from the hard times in this life. I know there will come a day when pain will one day hit his world too. I can’t prevent it. I know that. But I can try to teach him where to run when life’s pains show up. I can remind him where to rest his head when things fall apart. I can remind him of those hands that took the pain of the world and how those same hands are strong enough to carry his pain too. I can remind him that the pains we experience in this life are never wasted and that winter ends and spring returns. I can and I will.

My thoughts today are with all the folks whose worlds might be rocking right now.

I want to remind you too.

Stretch out across His lap, rest your weary head, and trust His hands to hold onto you through it all.

6 thoughts on “Strong Hands in the Winter

  1. Bill (cycelguy)

    This seems to be a familiar theme the past two days Eileen. Kari Scare. Deb. and tonight I am posting one on Empathy. We cannot close our eyes to those who are hurting. I pray you find Him sufficient during your musings.

    1. Eileen Post author

      I’ll stop on my by later, Bill. I’ve been way behind on blog reading. I agree. It’s a hard season for many.

  2. Caleb Suko

    I often think of my nephew during Christmas who lost his father in Iraq when he was only 8 months old. Life can seem very unfair sometimes. It reminds me of the need to be sensitive to other’s pasts especially this time of year.

  3. Betty Draper

    Eileen, beautiful post. It is those who have hurt the most who know how to draw along side of others. I know someone dear to us who just lost his wife yesterday, 35 year old to cancer. Our hearts are so grieved for this friend of ours and only wish we had the power to help him. He is a believer and knows she is not in pain anymore but still to lose someone in this time of year is extra hard. People are tied up in celebrating and being joyful and then grief hits. Thanks for the thoughtful post.


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