Little Hands

I should be wiping the handprints from my glass coffee table, but somehow I can’t bring myself to do it quite yet. Just yesterday the house was filled with laughter and delighted squeals. We read stories and danced on the rainbows –the three of us, now that Noah’s sister, Claire, is old enough to join in. Today it is quiet. Only the handprints and a few scattered toys remain.



















Despite smudges left in conspicuous places, I love those four little hands. I love how they squish my cheeks into silly faces that make us all giggle. I love the wild applause that follows each recitation, each song, each tottering block tower.

I love how Claire pats my back while I pat hers as she rests her head on my shoulder; how her hands work to scoop three cheerios into a spoon;



















how she uses two hands to hold a cookie.


I love the melodies Noah's hands tap out on the piano;
how he tirelessly writes numbers on his magna-doodle;
























how he turns book pages oh, so carefully.


I love their brother, sister pact,
cemented when the two of them hold hands...



















...how they wistfully reach for my hand,
leading me to the next discovery or adventure.





















Trust, encouragement, praise, hope, love:
How can such little hands hold the biggest of things?























And how is it that in their gentle touch
I sense the awesome power of Almighty God?


















Today I am participating in Walk With Him Wednesday. Today's topic was Experiencing God: How have you recently experienced God in your life?