Full Hands

garden hands

Yesterday I was busy working. You know, doing the teacher thing. All of a sudden, the house got quiet. I knew what was happening and I wasn't going to let it happen without me. I closed my laptop, grabbed my shoes and ran out the door. Eli was on his bike, Emma was in the red wagon and David was pulling. They were on a walk. Without me.

I yelled from the end of our cull-de-sack, "wait for me!" The walk resumed, a party of four. Down the street Eli started peddling faster, I grabbed the wagon and pulled Emma as fast as I could run to catch him. A neighbor was watching and said, "you've got your hands full!" I nodded.

We stopped to pick some leaves off a neighbors fall tree, we looked at bugs, Eli attempted to pick up an old lollipop that had dropped from someone's Halloween bag. I started thinking...

Do I have my hands full? Yes. Are they full of what you think? No.

My hands are not overwhelmed. My hands are holding little hands. My hands are not overworked. My hands are busy painting and gluing and cleaning little faces. My hands are not tired. My hands are full of life.

My hands are full and it is well.