"Man" Hands

My Wesley turned 13 this year.

And he has not stopped growing since that April day.

There’s a reason why the year a boy is 13 is considered the year a boy turns into a man.

It’s because, in so many ways, it IS the year a boy turns into a man.

This past Sunday in church, I held my oldest son’s hands for a bit.

It’s the first time I’ve held his hands in quite a while.  There’s just not much need or chance for a mom to hold a 13 year old’s hand.

Wesley was VERY sleepy because he had not gone to bed until around 2:30 the night before (see post about Luke’s stitches to see why).

He was having a hard time staying awake.

So was Luke but I let him put his head in my lap and go to sleep.

Wesley, however, was trying NOT to go to sleep.

He whispered, “Mom, my hands are ticklish so if you hold my hands, you can just tickle them each time I start to go to sleep and I’ll wake up.”

So I did.  

Why would I pass up that chance?

It was at that moment,

in the middle of church,

when I took my oldest son’s hands in mine

that I realized that my baby boy

has “man” hands now.

Hands larger than mine.

Hands that are being taught by my mom to play the piano.

Hands that practice on the same piano she first learned and practiced on.

Hands that are growing fast.

Hands that have turned into strong, “man” sized hands.

But even though they are “man” sized now,

they are still the hands that I got to hold for a short while during church

to keep a 13 year old awake!

And they are the same hands that have left permanent handprints on my heart. 

And that moment was as cherished as are the golden handprints that live on top of our piano - 

the handprint impressions frozen in time by our 4 children.

(As happens with middle children, Wesley was a 3 1/2 year old by the time I got his made - his hand was not that big as a baby!)