My Hands Are Full

If you have an active child, and especially if you have more than one, you have undoubtedly heard the phrase, "Your hands are full!"  I am never quite sure how to take this type of comment.  Is the commentator trying to make me feel better during that awkward moment my kid acts like his legs are made of Jello when I tell him he has to sit in the buggy at Wal-Mart? Is it a subtle way of telling me to get my boys under control?  Are they trying to make friendly conversation and feel they can only accomplish this by pointing out the obvious?  I'm never sure if a grunt, chuckle, or swift kick in the shin is in order.  Usually I just nod, smile through my frustration, and say, "Yep."

Last week as I stood in the check out line at Publix, my boys were acting "normal": touching all the candy close to the register, shoving each other out of the way, trying to escape and run out the doors into the parking lot.  You know, just your average trip to the grocery store.  The lady at the register smiled at me and said, "Whew, your hands are full!" I gave her a half-smile and nodded.  Something about the way she said it, however, made it seem different.  She did not say it in a condescending manner; she said it almost as though having your hands full were a good thing.

As I carried my boys to the car in a cart full of groceries and strapped them into their car seats, I realized my hands ARE full.

My hands are full of opportunities to teach my boys how to be disciples for Jesus and teach them how to be more like Him.  Every fight between brothers is a chance to teach repentance and forgiveness.  Every time they do something wrong is an opportunity to demonstrate unconditional love, the same way God loves us.  Every day is a new moment to let them see Jesus in me through my actions, reactions, and the way I love others.

My hands are full of love.  Not the mushy-gushy kind that makes my heart flutter, but the kind that takes hard work as outlined in I Corinthians 13: love is patient and kind, not jealous or boastful or rude; it does not demand its own way, it is not irritable and keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices in the truth; it never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and always endures; it lasts forever. The Lord has taught me so much about how he loves me through the way I love my children.  It is unconditional, and I would kill tigers for them.

My hands are full of life lessons that I have learned exclusively through being Ruly and Lincoln's mom.  God has given me a way of developing the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control through motherhood.   It is almost as though God gave me these two special treasures to mold me into a better vessel for His glory.  Being a mom has given me a platform for living out His commandments and His Word.  Every day and every moment brings with it the gift of a new lesson that shapes me into a better person.

My hands are full of priceless moments that I will carry in my heart forever.  Joyful memories like watching my boys shriek with laughter the first time they splashed in the waves at the beach in Destin.  Feeling the warmth of Ruly's newborn goodness on my belly immediately following his birth and the overwhelming wave of emotions that followed.  Hearing Lincoln say "I love you" for the first time.  Sometimes I feel like Mary, taking in the events after giving birth to Jesus, and how she "kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often." (Luke 2:19).  Even on my darkest days, I can look down at my hands and feel the fullness of these precious moments.

My hands are full of hopes and dreams for my boys.  I pray daily that God give me discernment and wisdom so I can raise them to be mighty men of valor.  I envision men that will walk boldly in God's path all of the days of their life.  I pray they develop their gifts and talents so they can use them for His kingdom.  I dream of courageous men that will stay connected to the true Vine and produce good fruit through His pruning (John 15).

My hands are full of fleeting moments that pass like sand dripping through a tight fist.  This is a short season.  I only have a limited time to nurture them, hug and smother them with kisses, and laugh hysterically at their potty jokes.  There will come a time that I will no longer tuck their sweetness into bed or read them "If You Give a Mouse A Cookie" for the 100th time.  Soon they will be too heavy for me to pick up when they aim their little arms towards me and say, "Hold you, mommy."  Very close in the future, they will no longer ask me to play trucks with them or pretend to eat a special meal they have "cooked" for me out of play dough. This time period will be gone before I know it and I should seize each moment, both good or frustrating, because I will long for these moments in the future. May this season "teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom." (Psalms 90:12)

My hands are full...and that is a good thing.