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.