EYES AND HANDS OF LIFE
© 2011, Wanda L. Harrell
As a babe, my eyes sought the comfort of my mother’s face while, from my crib, my hands reached out for her touch.
As a wee toddler, my eyes looked for every wildflower, while my hands busily and carefully plucked each bloom.
As a little girl, my eyes followed my dad’s movements until he held my small hand within his larger, protective one.
As I teenager, my eyes danced about, looking for love, while my hands reached out for direction.
As a young bride, my eyes did not veer away as my handsome groom placed a ring of gold upon my hand.
As a mother, my eyes carefully watched each child, and my hands did not miss an opportunity to hold their small hands within mine.
As a grandmother, my eyes proudly beheld the next generation while my hands carefully touched their velvety skin.
As a woman in the middle of her years, my eyes shed tears when the band of gold I’d worn for 25 years was removed from my hand.
As a woman late in her years, my eyes now seek my One Precious One for one last look while my wrinkled hands are held in his.
As a woman at the end of her life, my eyes will seek the face of our Lord as He extends His hand to mine.