It’s that time of year you know…the time for sentimental feelings, for snow, for christmas trees…the time when it’s hurts the most when things are wrong.
My niece and her husband are the in hospital with their 4 year old son. They are doing handprints. Posted pictures on facebook, comments about how precious those handprints are….
Handprints are for memories….my heart whispers
Handprints are for dying boys, for the ones you can’t take home and this world is not a safe place.
4 year old boys shouldn’t be this sick…mommas shouldn’t have to pray that they just get well enough to take home one more time. 17 year old boys shouldn’t die and it’s Christmas time again….and the wounds are raw and bleeding.
I still remember the nurse coming in to do handprints. She pressed his hands down, hands that wouldn’t work anymore no matter how much we prayed. Hands of a man and still of a child. And we carried the handprints home in a box and they put his body in a box and we were left without words and without a son, left with the pain so heavy that it bowed us low.
Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book? Ps 56:8
He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken Is 25:8
If you are in the area, there is a benefit for my niece’s family….