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Hold My Hand

We walked across the camp grounds, my daughter and I, when she said “I like it when she wants to hold my hand”. Her daughter, 4, has that way of reaching up onto your hand and into your heart and you want to keep holding on. She says it with words too, not just action and she likes feeling her hand in yours.

There will come a time when independce is preferred and you have to take theirs in your hand. Remember wanting to cross the street by yourself or prove you can keep your hands your pocket or behind your back when your mom took you into a store? Sometimes the safest place is to have their hand in yours.

It’s been a long time since I’ve held mama’s hand. Maybe reaching out to steady her now and again as she ambled across uneven terrain or left her “stick” (cane) at home. When I visited her in March I found myself reaching for her hand and holding on for safety. Security. She needed blood work and other tests done and getting her from the car to the Dr’s office and hospital was best navigated holding her hand. Like a child, I could easier direct her way and keep her from harm of wandering off. Unsure of where she was and what was going on around her to take her hand offered comfort. Made her feel safe and she was.

Me taking her hand. Not mother and child but child and mother. The roles have changed and who could have seen this coming? Not living there I never know what to expect one visit to the next. I try to expect little other than to give and let go. Let go of how I’d like life to be.

I’m glad she took my hand. Welcomed my reach and looked to me for answers when they asked. she never says my name but will call me sis sometimes and that’s okay. Any sign of familiarity or recognition, no matter how slight, is a gift.

The old hymn my dad loved comes to my mind. Its chorus singing
“He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,That shadows a dry, thirsty land;He hideth my life in the depths of His love,And covers me there with His hand,And covers me there with His hand.”

It’s His hand, Gods hand that covers me. Covers us both as we walk hand in hand with His grace.


13 thoughts on “Hold My Hand

  1. The role reversal of mother and child is tinged with sadness…but also with grace.

    Lovely post, and your respect and deep love for your mother shines through.

    • It is complex at times Lou but that’s usually from me. Best to let it be and take hold of the moments. My laptop is in for repairs so I’m a bit limited on my iPad not able to put a couple of photos I’d like but again – let go! :)

    • Comforting words Katharine. When my sister visited her recently mom asked her if she (mom) was at the Salvation Army. Lisa told her yes, she was there helping them. She knows serving God. And that’s a gift from him for all of us.

  2. Sweetly sad, especially with that wonderful mix of images at the end and a sad tail of daughter as mother to mother: Missing mother. Holding hands meaning something OH SO different. I’m understanding this SO much in my life now with dad. He kind of doesn’t understand my visits, or he’s astounded! A little of both i’m sure (or i think). xoxox melis

    • Melis, there is value in just being there. I can’t explain it really, but I know there is. I’m glad you’re able to do that with your dad. It matters. xo

      • Thank you for the words of encouragement … i still feel nervous, but i know it’s the right thing, and things will get better. He needs me and my brother now. He seems very alone. We’ll fix that!!! Jen’s visiting him as well. He’s excited. Always had an eye for nice lookin’ ladies. xom

  3. Mother’s Day is upon us again.
    For some reason it’s the day that hits me hardest. It’s the day that Hallmark has been reminding me of for a month. It’s the you don’t have a mother any more day.
    You, my grace-filled friend, have lost your Mom in a different way. I admire and applaud you for sharing with us.
    I’m a mother of 2 incredible adults, but Mother’s Day for me, was always about honoring my Mom. I think that living so far away from my own 2 intensifies that.
    The good thing about life on an oil rig, is that every day is essentially the same. There aren’t any holidays here.
    I’ll be praying for you, Debby. For the hands you hold and for the hand you long to hold.

    • I know what you mean, Debbie, about Mothers Day being about our moms. You got me thinking about the two that gave me the mom title. A title that’s been passed down and I like that! I can see the upside of every day being the same. It’s not the same for your kids as they celebrate you!

  4. Pingback: Lend a hand « Pins N Ashes

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