Tiny Hands

Sometimes life gets to us. Sometimes the world weighs on our shoulders. Sometimes we feel like we are at wits' end.

I can remember a time when my wife and I were having a tough time.

Ann worked full time and I had gone back to college full time. We had five sons. The oldest was six. The second was four. We had one-year-old twins and a little newborn surprise.

Ann would work all night and come home to take care of the boys and house during the day, and catch a nap here and there before going back to work. I would go to college during the day, help Ann with chores and boys in the evening, and catch a nap here and there between feedings and diapering and homework.

Some nights were worse than others. Our boys were incredibly healthy, rarely getting sick but, when one came down with a cold or flu, they would pass it around. Not to mention that, yes, we had three in diapers and taking a bottle. As I said, some nights were worse than others.

One night in particular I had gotten to bed late after working on homework. The little guys took turns waking me up. I'd feed the little one and climb back into my bed only to be awakened by another one needing a diaper change. Then I'd collapse into bed in time to hear another one cry. After dragging myself out of bed for what I was positive must be the last time I was capable of before I would surely die of exhaustion, I went into the boys' room.

One of the twins was hungry. With eyes that seemed to refuse to stay open I found my way to the side of his crib and picked him up. My tired eyes fluttered between open and closed and found his little blue eyes looking at me. The corners of his mouth curled up in a smile and one tiny hand reached out to grasp one of my fingers.

Looking into those eyes, unquestioning, totally accepting, not judging, just loving, I knew that I might be able to go back to sleep but I wouldn't be able to rest until I expressed the emotions I was feeling at that moment. I got on my computer and wrote the following poem that I think parents everywhere can relate to.

TINY HANDS

By: David Scott Matthews

I look upon my wondrous child,

Little nose, little arms, little feet.

Excited by his cherished smile,

on a face that is so sweet.

I touch the silky, golden hair,

that crowns his tiny head.

An angel sent from heaven,

lies smiling in that bed.

On God's work my mind does linger.

Then it comes to me clear and sharp.

Tiny hands reach for my finger,

and wrap around my heart.

Notice I didn't say it was a bad night, just tough. It turned out to be a wonderfully memorable night.