Dear Mom e-Letter
Remembering, Celebrating, Healing

Volume I, Issue 10
A Mother's Hands
October, 2006

Dear Reader,

Her fingers cruelly tormented, ravaged by arthritis, painfully and permanently turn inward, joints dissolved, the hands diminished to a small knot of flesh barely able to pick up food. These are the hands of a mom I recently met. A mom who gave birth and raised one of my dear friends.

When I describe my own mother's hands, the image is very different. Long, lean fingers that did not know arthritis, able to do what she'd always done: crochet, sew, read and cook. The day Mom died, she was crocheting my daughter's Christmas present: a beautiful rose-colored afghan.

When we remember the gifts of our mother's hands, it's easy to think of the things she created: favorite meals, cookies and treats; clothes she both sewed and mended; a home she created for you, your siblings and your herd of friends.

But there are also the less obvious gifts of a mother's hands: the touch that healed, soothed, consoled with a hot water bottle or a cold cloth. And almost always, the instant healing bestowed by the magical band aid moms applied to all injuries, big and small.

I counted on Mom's healing touch when I was a child, and counted on her advice as an adult. What I didn't count on was the healing she would give me after she died. Healing that could only come by looking back on life with mom and finding all the many gifts she gave me. Gifts that I took for granted.

The journey back in time, shared in Dear Mom: Remembering, Celebrating, Healing, was a gift that continues to bless me. My gratitude for Mom's gifts is the lens through which I see other mothers, and their gifts. And sharing those moments with friends and readers renews me and inspires me to create.

What did your mother's hands look like? Were her fingers long and lean? Scarred and rough? Or smooth and silky? Can you remember her touch, her gentleness, her care? Close your eyes and remember her hands, and then look at your own. Have your hands become your mother's?

I took Mom's hands for granted. My friend's mother's arthritic hands reminded me to appreciate the work mothers do without complaint, the healing they bestow without gratitude, and most certainly, the love they give unconditionally. And if you're blessed because your hands have become your mother's hands, tell her thanks. It's certainly one of the greatest gifts of all.