Little Hands

No matter what I find myself doing these days, there at least two, if not four, little hands wiggling their way into the middle of it.


This intrusion naturally impedes my progress, and leaves me with two choices: I can either impatiently shoo those little hands away, or I can patiently guide them.


It is so easy for me, a scheduling list maker, to become flustered by interruptions that hamper my momentum.  But what is my role as mother, if not to lovingly instruct my little ones?


The little hands ache for inclusion.  For new experiences; a brand of independence that requires big hands to back away, yet remain constant and close.


There will always be chores, but there will not always be children.

So I welcome the little hands.  And the hearts that accompany them.





{I'll always welcome you too!  Stay a while...}