Whacha Doin?

I smiled to myself as I overheard my children yesterday morning on the way to church. The conversation went something like this:
Laura: Mattchew, whacha doin?
Matthew: Going to church. What are you doing?
Laura: Wanna hold my hand?
Matthew: Sure.
I casually glance back and out of the corner of my eye I see Laura placing Matthew's hand in her other hand, just so, and then looking over at him with one of her looks that says 'you are the most wonderful person in the world and I'm so blessed to be holding your hand'. My Mother's heart is full. Contentment reigns supreme in the car for awhile.

Laura is forever asking "Whacha doin?". Even when she knows the answer. We've learned that she's really trying to figure out how she can put herself in to the middle of what you are doing because she wants to belong. Be involved. Get in on the down and dirty as well as the glory in the end for a job well done. And she enjoys the banter of conversation. The give and take. The involvement in something bigger than herself and her little world at that moment. And more often than not, she wants to 'get up', meaning she wants to be picked up, or she just wants to be connected to someone else by holding your hand. We always oblige.

There is something comforting about having a little hand inside your own. Somehow it makes you realize that you are not alone. You have a companion who loves you unconditionally no matter what might have happened that day, no matter how brilliant, or not, your dinner might have been, or how long it took you to do the basics in the house. You just are wonderful because you are you. And that little, trusting hand says it all.

When a close friend visits, albeit not often enough, her youngest is the same way. There is something about her tiny hand that lets you know are goodness personified, that you are trustworthy and that you have value to even the littlest ones among us. I treasure those moments, wishing they were here more often. And I think about them long after they are gone. Especially when I just need the touch and understanding of a close friend who does not judge and loves me anyway.

Before we pulled in to the parking lot yesterday morning, I realized that I can reach out just like Laura and Lia. No matter when or why. My heavenly Father will be there to grasp my hand, hold me close and let me know that everything will be okay. His hands surrounding mine offer my heart comfort and peace that only he can bring. I find myself amazed at the joy tiny hands bring, and am in awe of the mighty hands of God. Perhaps in making us in his likeness, he knew just how wonderful those precious, small hands would be. And I am forever thankful that he entrusted several pair to me.