Two of my grandsons, riding in the back seat of my car together a couple of years ago
We hold hands a lot in my family. We comfort, we show affection, we connect when we hold hands.
I have warm memories of hand-holding from every stage of my married life, beginning with the marriage ceremony. My husband held my hand as I labored to give birth to our children. We held our children's hands when we wanted to keep them safe or comfort them when they were hurt or sick or sad. We held hands as we waited for news, as we worried. We marveled at the perfection of our grandchildren's hands as we held them soon after they were born. We hold the hands of our grandchildren as we held their parents' hands.
Tomorrow we'll go walking
there's a world out there to see
I will hold your tiny hand inside my hand
But tonight just close your eyes
and fix them on a dream
while I hold your tiny heart inside
from "I Will Hold Your Tiny Hand", Steve Rashid
I imagine hands stretching across the long miles that separate us, holding on, keeping the bond strong. The busy lives of young parents don't always have room for frequent visits or even frequent conversations.
But even so. . .
There's an unbroken chain
that stretches for miles
from Grandma to son
father to child
There are lifetimes of love
just waiting for you
From another Steve Rashid song, "Nannie's Lullaby"
This week I happened across a birthday card my father sent me several years ago. The note inside asked me if I remembered a family Thanksgiving years ago when we all said what we were thankful for. That Thanksgiving was one of the happiest I can remember. Several generations had gathered around the table. We began the meal, as we always do, holding hands, and asking for God's blessings.