My Mother’s Hands

It seemed appropriate to share these thoughts today, my first Mother’s Day as Owen’s mommy. I wrote down these reflections a few weeks after Owen was born.


I looked down at my hands today as I was taking care of Owen, and was startled to discover that I have my mother’s hands. My hands look just as I remember how my mother’s looked! The shape, the veins, the fingers, the way they were moving…it was all the same.

When did this happen? When did my hands become my mother’s?

I remember my mom’s hands doing so many things…
…stroking my hair
…holding my hand
…cooking amazing meals
…holding a book
…petting the cats
...tucking me in
…serving too many people to count

So many memories of her hands! And now I see my hands and feel conscious of her presence again. She will never hold her grandson, Owen, but as my hands wipe his tears and cuddle him close, she loves him through me. My mother is the one who taught me compassion, service, and gentleness, and I hope that Owen will see the same things in my hands that I saw in hers.