Hands: Independent, but Loving

As we were walking out of church Patrick put his hand in mine. It is not something he does that often anymore now that he has had his eighth birthday. He's sort of at the in-between stage where he still likes to be openly affectionate to his mom but no longer feels completely comfortable about it.
As we were walking along I started thinking about the different hands in my life. I love holding Patrick's hand. It is such a fine hand with a wide palm similar to his EE-width foot. Besides
occasionally holding hands with me, Patrick's hands are involved in inventions of his own making. He's sure that he could build an elevator for our house if only he had the wood. These same hands are also hard at work making the transition from printing to script handwriting.
Colleen's hands are more readily available for holding. She's six and a half and very affectionate. She'll hold hands with me, Dad, and even Patrick when I send them on a big kids' errand. Colleen and I have lots of conversations about her fingernails. She would like to grow her nails long and have glamorous hands, but I won't let her because they are always dirty that way. I tell her that if she doesn't let me clean and trim them, people will think that no one cares about her. She doesn't understand this kind of thinking.
Maureen's little four-year-old hands are beginning to make drawings to be displayed taped on the refrigerator. Sometimes I tape them upside down which causes her great distress. I love to hold her hands and she loves to hold mine. Her hands are so sweet and little just like she is.
Machaela's hand-holding has to be done when it is Machaela's idea. I guess that decision is an undeniable right of a 20-month old baby. The times that she never seems to want to hold hands are when we are crossing a busy parking lot from the car to a store. This is usually a time for a streak of independence. Her little hands can hold so many things especially when she's going to bed. She can carry Dee and Snoopy, her dolls, and Dee's pillow and her own blanket.
Many times I have been at meetings where John is the speaker. At the time I am interested in his subject but find when it is over I haven't really heard his speech at all because I have been looking at his hands the whole time, noticing all his gestures and thinking that I would like to be holding his hands in mine right then.
That is a lot of hands to think about on the short walk out of church, but it all led to one thought. Would our new baby be healthy? Would the baby have all his fingers and toes?
I didn't have to wait long to get my answer. Our new baby was born the next morning, an 8-pound, 10 ounce red-haired boy, whom we named John Joseph Jr. I think the first question any mother asks before wondering what sex the baby is, or what color hair the baby has, is "Is the baby OK? Does he have all his fingers and toes?" We are so thrilled and thankful that we have been blessed with another healthy baby.
I now have another pair of hands to fill my heart with joy.
October 16, 1980