A Mom’s Touch


It had been a long day of running around town, and my youngest daughter, Mia, began to cry in the car on the way home. We only had one more stop, but she had obviously had her fill of errands for the day. As I reached back to her car seat and offered her my finger to hold, she immediately stopped fussing. Aha! I have a new “strategy”! All she wanted was Mommy’s touch. I gently stroked the top of Mia’s hand, and within seconds, she was calmly sleeping. No more tears—just peace. So, forgetting the last errand, I drove one-handed the rest of the way home, careful not to let go of that tiny finger that had such a tight grip on my own.

Since that day, I’d come to realize that many times all I needed to do was to offer Mia one small touch, and she would be okay. I glance at the hands that offered Mia motherly comfort, and they begin to look seriously familiar. Are these my mother’s hands? The dry cuticles from too much cleaning and too many dishes; the chipped or broken nail from whatever happened, and the small wrinkles beginning to form (a sure sign of my age)…these are my mother’s hands! These same hands that comfort, wipe away tears, and hold others tightly were once tiny as well…very much like the little hand I held in the car. I remember the many times my mom put her hands on me in love, correction, prayer, praise, encouragement, support, and guidance. She picked me up, wiped my tears, and held me gently. This touch of love is one that only a mother has—and one that only a mother understands how to use.

The hands of my mother were passed down to her by my granny. My granny, too, once touched me in a way that only a mother or grandmother could—in a special way she may never fully realize. When I was pregnant with Mia, my granny came to visit for the summer. I cherished every opportunity to spend one more day with her. This particular visit, she sat on the pew next to me in church as we listened to our pastor speak of the “touch” of older generations and what it means to pass on a legacy of blessing to one’s children. In the middle of the service, Granny gently reached over and laid her hand on my pregnant belly. She closed her eyes and blessed the child I was carrying. I looked down to see her curved fingers and wrinkled hands, spotted with age and sun damage. Without a word, she sweetly smiled and went back to listening. At that moment, I realized the gift God had given me in the legacy of godly hands. Granny didn’t think twice about reaching out and sharing her touch with my child, even before she was born! The hands of my granny have beautifully touched me, and because of that, my children will be forever blessed. I’m forever thankful for the hands that held me…the hands that wiped my tears…the hands that cleaned my scrapes and blew my nose. I could only be so blessed to have the same touch as the generations of caring hands that, before me, have held our family close. It is my prayer that my hands are just as loving and as caring as those that were placed on me.

God, please bless these hands so that when I lay them on my children, it will only be out of love and respect. Let me offer my hands to You, Lord, that they may serve You all the days of my life. Let my touch be gentle, caring, and loving, yet uncompromising. Enable me, Lord, to handle the hearts of my children just the way You would touch their hearts. Let this be so that my children can someday look down and see the generations of care and be proud to have their mother’s hands. Let my children touch more lives than I have. Let them comfort more, serve more, wipe more tears, and clean more floors! Thank you, Lord, for the hands that touched my life, and those who touched hers…for they have been Your hands.

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