The precious years when our children were young are still a vivid picture to me, as I recall so many special events.  The first time I saw the handprint of our daughter was when she was in first grade and she brought home her tiny gift, made out of plaster. I found a special place in our home, on the top bookshelf next to the fire place.  Within a couple of years our oldest son brought home his chubby handprint done in a white plaster plate, with blue trim. Again I found a place for my special gift. During Sunday school our youngest son had been working on a Mother's Day project, and when he was in kindergarten he too brought home a gift; a set of his handprints, which had been laminated with the following poem, written between them, with his name and the date.

"Sometimes you get discouraged because I am so small,
And always leave my fingerprints on furniture and walls.
But everyday I'm growing. I'll be full grown someday,
And all those tiny fingerprints will surely fade away.
So here's a final handprint, just so you will recall,
Exactly how my fingers looked when I was very small."
-- Author Unknown

I read the poem with tears in my eyes, my son oblivious to what was stirring within me, happy that I adored his gift that he had made. I quickly placed the laminated sheet with his handprints on my piano where the sheet music sat. For many years it remained there.

The little gifts that each child made at Sunday school, during Vacation Bible School, or in their classroom always went on a special shelf, hung on the wall, or found its way to the appropriate spot for all to see. Many of the seasonal greeting cards, made out of colorful construction paper, have remained in my Bible as a pleasant memory of a Sunday years ago when the gift was given.

Over the years as each child grew we had a favorite spot in our kitchen, to measure their growth spurts; with their name and age next to their progress.  Eventually they each left home and we remodeled our house.  After a new paint job in my kitchen, I was horrified. Although it looked fresh and lovely, I no longer had the years of marks that measured the growth of each child. They had all been painted over!  How priceless those pencil indention's with their names and dates had been to me, another reminder of how quickly time goes.

Today our children are grown and happily living their own lives. Our daughter is married to a fine man and the mother of three precious young girls. She works tirelessly with her hands, making meals for new "moms" in their church, and other area activities; while doing so much for her own family. The little boy with chubby hands is a man who is 6'5" tall and has a talent for working on cars with his hands, building things and helping others. And our youngest son learned how to shoot a basketball from the three point line, and how to throw a fast pitch in high school, summer American Legion team, and in college baseball, with his hands. Today he is a minister reaching out to others with his hands.

We don't often think of how very important our hands are to us. Not just for the basic needs that they provide and enable us to do, but how much we can do for others. With our children we can take time to color a picture and teach them to do their best, making a project to give to someone. We can bake something for someone unable to get out, and give it to them. Our hands are used to hug others, we shake hands when we meet someone, and we use them for daily tasks around our homes, thus doing things for our loved ones. Our hands become a blessing when we reach out to others in numerous deeds of sharing. If our children see us use our hands for these acts, they in turn will learn that kindness can be extended by outstretched hands.

Everyday children continue to grow, physically, spiritually and emotionally, and life doesn't give us time to pause for long.  All too soon those days of raising children, and hearing the patter of little feet, and watching as they grow from kindergarten to high school graduation, are gone. I still have my plaster molds of their little hands, and my laminated sheet with the poem. During the years those special gifts that came home, made by each child, have been the most beautiful gifts I've ever received. I may look back and think of things I would have done differently, but one thing I do, is thank God for the blessings and happiness He gave me, and the memories that I hold dear of our children.