My mom is getting older.
I just watched the curser blink under that sentence for half a minute.
I realized yesterday that I have not been as patient or attentive as she needs me to be.
She forgets, walks slow and repeats herself.
I usually feel frustrated by it, but that started to change yesterday.
Like a wave of the Spirit it hit me.
It is time for the investment she made in me to finally pay off.
I keep a cane in the car for her to use if we are going to walk any distance.
We argue about it because she does not want to use it.
I eventually just let it go.
Yesterday instead of trying to force a cane on her I did something different.
I offered her my hand.
Her hands are crispy from years of work, dry skin and wear.
They are bent from arthritis.
But at the same time her hands are soft and beautiful like a mom’s.
I offered her my hand and she joyfully took hold.
Our fingers intertwined.
I felt the mix of wear and warmth and it was beautiful.
We walked along Rockport Massachusetts’s Bearskin neck hand in hand until we reached the sea.
All the time I have spent arguing with her I could have been holding on to her.
The speed at which we walked became irrelevant.
The physical connection allowed deeper conversation.
The proximity allowed for quieter voices.
I’m thankful for this lesson learned and I wonder…
Where else am I offering a fist instead of an open hand?
Who will you open your hand to this week?
What will it feel like?
How will it change things?