These Hands

These hands have held, been held, worked, wiped tears, patted backs, rubbed headaches away… these hands have been folded in prayer, they’ve reached out to another, twiddled, anxiously moved, covered a mouth filled with laughter, rubbed a back to console.

These hands have written down feelings, held the hand of a dying loved one, held a newborn child straight from the womb. These hands have raised to God in worship, stretched wide in desperation, lifted heavy loads, disciplined out of love, made mistakes, and begged for forgiveness. These hands have loved and lost and hurt and been hurt.

These hands will continue to make a difference here and now and forever. These are hands of mothers, daughters, sisters, friends, wives, cousins, aunts, nieces, a grandmother, a widow, sinners, redeemed women, saved by grace through faith daughters of The King. These are mine and Momma’s hands.

It Matters

I have written poetry since I was a child. I found this quote on Pinterest that explains what poetry is to me. I don’t know the author of this quote, but I love it.

” Poetry is what happens when your mind stops working,

and for a moment, all you do is feel. “

 

A place.

A smell.

A sight.

A song.

Feelings rush in –

The moment slows and freezes.

A thought.

A vision.

A memory.

A sound.

Time stands still –

Nothing else matters.

Our lives are filled with all of these moments.

Our bodies just skin that carries our souls.

Slow down.

Take time –

for the stuff that really matters.

Breathe in

Breathe out

The good and the bad.

Life is a gift.

Each moment, it matters.

The time we are given is not just for ourselves.

~ Heather Dawkins