hands....

sometimes i look at my hands and remember them as they looked when i was four...holding a fat blue pencil or wading my fingers through a cup of chocolate milk...i remember my hands holding a piece of butter bread or clutching a toy car...the small hand of child should not have to make a fist and hit her own daddy over the head so he will stop hitting her mommy...and that small hand should not have had to wipe her own tears away when she was afraid...

but we live in a world of suffering...and small children get hurt and it isnt right but it is what happens...and that child grows up trying her best to be a good person...to make a decent life for herself...to belong...but in the palm of her hand the lines are etched deep...the ones she cant seem to erase...and no matter how hard she tries or what she does the lines always stay the same...

i read these lines in my palm this evening...i see it all so clearly...my little hand...my aging one...same lines...same outcome...only that little girl deserved a better chance and more love than she was ever given...she didnt deserve scraps or seconds or leftovers...she shouldnt have had to work twice as hard to get even a small taste of a good life...she should have been showered with love...as an adult she was good and kind and worked so hard yet it was never good enough for those rationing love to her...

so here she is...palms up...still giving thanks for the love which flows through her from the grace-filled source of love...

i reach back in time and kiss those sweet little hands and know i deserved better all along my way through this life...i still do...i love myself this evening...more than i have in a very long time...i am worthy...