It has been a super busy weekend. I have used my hands to move dirt and rocks, sweep floors, and scrub. I often am grumpy cuz they are so small (for real, I’m always teased about how little they are) and not very strong, but I am always grateful for having them.

Because they are smaller, gloves are not something I use often. I rarely paint the nails. My hands were created to  be used. Often in a hard manner. I love how they can feel. The softness of fabric, the textures of the earth, and the warmth of people. Granted, sometime what they touch isn’t nice. Often they get super cold (I was a teen and frostbit them because I refused to wear mittens one freezing snowy day). They have some scars. Today, they have orange spray paint on them.

The spray paint didn’t stop me from putting gas in mom’s car, reaching out to hug a dear friend, it doesn’t stop me from typing my joys. Having hands is a blessing. Using them to help someone else is an even bigger blessing. They are small things, but oh so much to be thankful for!


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