Hands

Yesterday I talked about Big's breath prayer.

Jesus hold my hand.

Turns out I have a fascination with hands totally

independent of Big's prayer.

I took this picture the weekend of Maggie's wedding.

12 years ago.

We have mine, mom's, Gaye's and Mark's.

As I recall, Dirk hadn't made his way down to the hotel lobby yet.

Hands say so much.

Mark's hands look just like my dad's, and, actually, 

Dirk's do too.

Michael's do too. 

Babies who just randomly hold hands are the sweetest.

That's Eliana and Maddie.

Super old hands holding a baby's hand melt my heart.

These are servant's hands.

There are so many stories in those beautiful hands

that I can't even begin to tell. 

Those hands have touched and helped mold so many lives.

They are beautiful.

They are works of art.

I hope these hands prove to be up to the task.

Both sets.

And then this.

We wanted something to pour mom's ashes out of

that wasn't the plastic bag they came in.

I found this ash pot, how fitting, and got the bright idea

that we should all put our hand prints on it.

I think we got us all. 

That way we all had a hand in laying mom to rest.

I kinda love that pot.