mrsmomdragon

Sharing my adventures, thoughts and occassional jokes. Sorting through laundry, and a little bit of life…This is How I Train My Dragons…

Hands

You can tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands.

Sometimes you can tell what they do for a living, what they spend time doing, or even what mistakes they might have made along the way.

I remember when Emaleigh was in kindergarten and she learned how to do the monkey bars, she had blisters all over the palms of her hands. It was almost like a kindergarten rite of passage to get these blisters. As she got older and quit doing the monkey bars as often, her blisters went away.

When I was younger, my Dad had this special orange soap (literally it smelled like oranges) that was supposed to be tough on grease. Every night before dinner, he would wash his hands with that soap and no matter how hard he scrubbed, his hands still looked dirty. You see, my dad was (is) one of the hardest working people that I know. He worked sun up to well over sun down on and around the farm. Years of dirt, grease, oil, joy, and pain filled under each fingernail and within every crease of his rough, cracked, hands…making it almost impossible for them to be fully clean.

I’ll never forget when I saw my Dad for the first time about 4 years ago. I didn’t notice the green uniform that made him instantly identifiable as an inmate, nor did I notice standard issue boots that every other male in the gray chairs were wearing. As crazy as it sounds, it wasn’t completely shocking to me to see my dad as a prison inmate (bear with me).

What caught me most off guard was looking down at my Dad’s hands. They were no longer the hands I remember so fondly during my childhood. The rugged hands that grease the tractors, the hands callused from shoveling for hours, or the stained hands that would clench the spoon over his late night bowl of cereal; these were not the same hands. The hands that I was looking at were stark white and there was nothing that said, “now there’s a hard worker”. These hands that reached across the table for mine were soft and unrecognizable.

Yesterday, we were able to go see my Dad again. Again, I saw his hands. No matter how many times I am faced with the hands, I will never get used to them. No matter how many times we make the trip to see him, it will never get any easier when it’s time to leave.

As we were driving home I couldn’t quit thinking about his hands. Then I realized, no matter how many times we try to wash our hands they will always be dirty. We try and try on our own to wash them clean. Sometimes, we get them as clean as we are able to and call it good not even realizing that we are doing it all wrong.  But, it’s not until we give Jesus our hands for Him to clean,  that all of the junk is washed off of them. We can’t do it by ourselves.

Nothing can take away the hard work that my Dad did with his hands…the lines of a great life and hard work are still there. I do miss seeing his old, rough hands but I am thankful to be able to reach across and grab his hands that are clean.

As hard as it is to admit and as hard as it is to see him there, my Dad is where he needs to be. I say this because it is the place where he was at his lowest but it was also the place where Jesus was able to get, and keep, his attention.

It is in that very place, in that cell,  where Jesus washed his hands (and continually washes them) with him.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements
2 Comments »

Think Before You Speak…

“If you can’t say anything nice”…

We’ve all heard it.

When I was little, I remember getting told that occasionally. Now, as a mom, I have found myself saying the same thing to my own kids. It’s usually when they’re in a heated argument over who gets to sit in the middle seat or a great debate over who ate the last piece of licorice. Usually, I am able to end the arguments pretty swiftly by confessing that, “IT WAS ME! I ate the last piece, and it was GOOD!”

Yes, my kids fight. And yes, sometimes, when they do…they don’t say very nice things.

We’re all guilty. Things have been said that we wish we could take back. Words spew out of our mouths that should have gone through some type of filter first. But once the words have been spoken, they’re out.

Emaleigh came home from school yesterday and explained to me that a friend of hers told her, “So and so doesn’t like your haircut because it makes you look fat.”

Wow.

As she told me this, her eyes began to well up with tears. I thought to myself, what compels people to say such things; such mean and hurtful things. Things that now, every time Emaleigh looks in the mirror, is going to question.

The worst part of this: So and So… is an adult. A grown woman who is sharing her thoughts on my daughters haircut to others. Sharing it in a manner, or around people, that she figured it would never get back to my little girl…yet, it did. And those words can never be undone.

I have heard adults talk about other adults. Kids talk about other kids. But, I cannot figure out for the life of me, why something like this is being said from an adult about a child. My child. This might sound petty to some, and maybe it is, but I just don’t understand. So what if she didn’t like Emaleigh’s haircut? So. What.

So now, I find myself wanting to tell a grown adult, “If you can’t say anything nice”…

My heart breaks for my little girl who is just coming into her own. Who has just recently taken an interest into doing her own, beautiful hair. She has always been so independent…wanting to do everything on her own. But, it hasn’t been until just recently that she has taken an interest in her hair. So, I let her do it herself . No, her ponytails aren’t always straight, or one side of her hair might be a little “fluffy”, but it’s how she likes to do it. And, she looks beautiful. She looked beautiful with long hair, and she looks just as beautiful with short.

It’s about this age that young girls begin to take notice of their appearance a little bit more. I know for Emaleigh, she has been a little bit more conscience of what she looks like before she takes off to school, or even before we go to Wal-Mart. Yes, Wal-Mart.

I’m so proud of the young woman that she is becoming…and I’m so proud of how she handled herself, even though I’m sure her heart broke just a little bit when she heard those words.

As I sit and write this, tears stream down my face for her. My little girl, who is not fat. My little girl, who cut 12 inches of her hair off to donate to other little girls who have had cancer and have lost their own. My little girl, that did that not because she was asked to, but because she wanted to. My little girl, who is not perfect, and doesn’t try to be. My little girl, who had a little piece of her taken away because of those words.

Tears stream down my face for every little girl who has even been told, “you look fat”. Although the comments might be seemingly harmless, they can leave a lasting remark that can never be undone.

I ask you…no, I beg you to think before you speak.

Again, I know we are all guilty of saying things or doing things that we regret. Sometimes even saying things that we don’t even realize has hurt the other person. Yet, it does…more times than we know. And now, as a result of a careless mouth of an adult, I am trying to pick up the pieces of my little girls heart.

Think before you speak.

Especially if it’s concerning a child. Think before you say it. Just think.

“The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences.”

Proverbs 18:21 NLT

Em's Haircut

9 Comments »

theMosaicBlog

that church for people who don't really like church

My Lord and My Blog: A blog by Arron Chambers

My Thoughts on Life, Leadership, & My Lord

WordPress.com

WordPress.com is the best place for your personal blog or business site.

Rocky Parenting

Parenting between a rock and a hard place. Join us.

Happy Chaos

Tales of a happy, chaotic little family

TurtleAndRobot.com

Children's Book Reviews

the prodragonist

this is my story. maybe you can relate.

100 Days of Summer

Exploring Fort Collins family style.

Ripples In The Water

Navigating life when the vision is not clear

Just another crazy family...

Colorado Springs Volkmann Family - all mixed up as usual

(B)logging the Miles

"Runs end; Running doesn't."

mrsmomdragon

Sharing my adventures, thoughts and occassional jokes. Sorting through laundry, and a little bit of life...This is How I Train My Dragons...

Union Pacific Caboose # 25251

A story of the rescue and restoration of an old caboose