Post written by Education Director and Board Member Kelsey Thompson
My son recently asked me “Mom, why do your hands always hurt?”
I explained that Mommy works with her hands all day making flowers, cutting wire and washing buckets, so they get sore and cracked and dry from working.
But it got me to thinking…
These hands have hugged brand new dads when they come in to grab flowers for their amazing wives.
These hands have cradled babies and entertained toddlers when I’ve delivered to a young mom’s house and she just.needs.a.minute.to.pee.
These hands have held books up for children to see the pictures as I’ve read for classrooms, or demonstrated a flower technique for a local girl scout group.
These hands have clapped for area students as they do their best in sports, music, art and life.
These hands have written checks for donations and assembled gifts for auctions and gone high in the air during bidding wars at fundraising galas and community dinners.
These hands have decorated churches and homes and backyards and cars and benches and about anything else you can think of!
These hands have grasped the hands of countless beaming girls as they proudly show off their new engagement ring.
These hands text brides-to-be at all hours of the night, answering questions and easing anxieties.
These hands have pinned flowers to shaky grooms and patted emotional dads on the back and run random errands for stressed moms.
These hands have moved in a blur as they create a gift or bouquet for the husband or wife that maybe kinda forgot it was their spouses birthday or anniversary until 5:20 PM.
These hands have taken the garbage out, moved furniture and mailed letters for elderly recipients.
These hands have shoveled snow – the recipient was getting flowers because he had surgery and his hands sure couldn’t go outside and do it.
These hands and arms have given so many hugs to people receiving deliveries for so many reasons…news of a cancer diagnosis, the death of a child, passing their nursing boards, accepting a new job, etc. The sender can’t be there, but my flowers and my hands can.
These hands have held mugs of coffee and lemon bars or cookies as I just sit and chat with the lonely woman that I’m delivering to. All her family live out of town and she misses them, so these hands hold pictures of her great grandkids as she proudly tells me stories that she’s only heard over the phone or email.
These hands have held the hands of grieving families as they choose final tribute pieces for their loved ones.
These hands have carefully cleaned up gravesites and decorated them with respect and care.
These hands fold every night in prayer and thank God for my family, His blessings and the many opportunities He’s given these hands to “work” in our community.