These tiny hands, they aren't as tiny as they used to be. Every day, they are looking more like the hands of a toddler, ready to play and explore in the world around us. I find myself wiping them clean throughout the day because they are bound to end up messy, between playing and independently feeding herself. But these hands, yet still so new tell a story. This thought prompted me to look at my own hands. Have you ever just sat down and looked at your hands? Felt grateful for the things that have done, can do and are doing (typing this post). Our hands are powerful. I look at mine and as I see my daughters slowly turning in to sometimes slimy, dirty little toddler hands, I'm watching mine turn in to the hands of a mother. They are strong, though they are young, they are beginning to show the years of work they have done. These hands have changed hundreds of diapers, bathed a squirmy baby, rocked a fussy baby to sleep, helped guide a newborn baby to the breast, held hands as she took her first assisted wobbly steps. These hands have experienced so many beautiful moments in life. They are doing the same thing my mothers hands did, and hers did the same that my grandmothers hands did. We have all cared for our child, shown our child love as we slowly stroked their hair in the middle of the night, used them to play peek-a-boo, just to hear that sweet baby giggle. My hands are slowly turning in to the hands of a mother, powerful, light, and beautiful. I'm slowly turning in to a mother, it's not something that happens immediately. Yes, instincts happen, but truly becoming a mother means living the life of a mother, each day, each new experience opens a new meaning, a new sense of what motherhood truly is.
"The hand of a bride becomes the hand of a mother. Ever so gently she cares for he precious child. Bathing, dressing, feeding, comforting-there is no hand like mother's. Nor does its tender care diminish through the years."
-Thomas S. Monson
