My Mother's Hands~

Today I looked at my hands and saw my mother’s hands. The bumpy joints, no longer smooth, telltale signs of arthritis. I saw the wrinkles and crepe like skin with bulging veins, telltale signs of many years and much hard labor that they have endured. The tips having neatly, although far from perfectly, manicured nails painted with polish in an effort to dress them up a bit as a reminder that they are the hands of a woman.

But more than just the physical appearance, I saw hands that have painstakingly knitted hats and shawls and headbands to be donated to cancer patients or homeless shelters. Hands that have created dozens upon dozens of cookies, cakes and pies and delicious meals to make a loved one’s day special. Hands that have volunteered during the darkest of times in a community to try to help restore things back to a more normal state. Hands that have labored to earn money to be in turn given back to a local cause with no expectation of recognition for their effort.  Hands that have performed all sorts of physical labor, created works of art, played musical instruments and clapped a million times in joy and appreciation. Hands that write with a distinct style, an autograph that is clear and unmistakeably mine.

The same hands that have wiped away tears, traded back scratches and back rubs, demonstrated how to perform all sorts of tasks, guarded secret whispers, contained laughter at inappropriate times, held another person’s hand to comfort them, rested on backs in a show of support, and reached out to pull someone up when they were down. Hands that created the locking clasp of a hug, hands that raised high in the air to question something that had been said or done when no one else dared. Hands that held and lovingly stroked the fur of a beloved pet as they left on their final journey into heaven.

And the hands that held the hand that gave them life as that hands life slipped away. They are hands that make me proud that they have accomplished so much. They are indeed, my mother’s hands. And I wear them with honor. I can only hope that mine will make as positive a contribution to the world as my mother’s hands.

This is my New Year present to my family and Facebook friends. It is to relieve them of the looong Facebook entries I post and instead provide them with a place to read my writings about life in the hollow. I will not be blogging on a regular basis, but rather, when something moves me to put my feelings in words. And so it begins....

Life is so dynamic. No matter how hard we try to force it into a state of being that suits us we cannot escape the moments of happenstance that shape what actually happens and how it influences us. With this afternoon came one of those moments. As I was sitting down to eat brunch, just outside the bank of windows behind the kitchen table, in the drab grays, browns and whites of winter appeared a flash of cobalt blue. So out of place, yet so welcome. As my eyes sharpened their focus on the small body on a tree branch ahead of me I discovered even more color than I expected. A rich, rusty red and milky white grounded the blue on the top and back of an Eastern Bluebird. Before I could absorb all of the beauty before me, my attention was distracted by a blue flash to my left, landing on the bluebird feeder on the deck. As my head snapped to the left, the frenzy of motion escalated as not one, not two, but three more bluebirds landed on and around the feeder. They hopped around and over the feeder, peeking in the holes in the end and through the plexiglass sides, exploring and searching for food. Sadly, there was no food inside. I had filled the feeder in the past with high hopes of having bluebirds become regular visitors but instead found that many other creatures took advantage of my offerings. Red-bellied Woodpeckers wisely slipped their bills under the plexiglass sides to raise them just enough to give them access to the food inside. Not what I had in mind but I was glad to have them visit the feeder all the same. Then came the squirrels who chewed the end holes, which had carefully been designed to welcome just bluebirds inside, into large openings which allowed easy access for their scavenging. So with the new alterations to the feeder my filling of the feeder ceased.

But today, as the burst of activity that so captivated my attention warmed my heart, I once again placed an offering of meal worms out for the bluebirds. It was probably in vain as the whole bluebird sighting took place in a period of maybe 2 minutes and then they were gone. It was over so quickly that I almost didn't have time to think about grabbing my camera to try to catch the beauty. The image above was all I could manage once I gathered my composure and acted upon the wave of emotion that washed over me. Just two minutes, but long enough to make an impression that will last a life time. A reminder that life happens when you least expect it and if your heart and mind are not open to receiving it you will miss out on the little things that make life beautiful.