When your hands are filled with sand at the beach and the grains chase each other out of your hand, do you feel that peace? These children have taught me a deep satisfying peace.
When your hands are filled with warm shiny blackberries, each pregnant with delicious flavor, do you feel that eagerness to experience? These children have taught me a pure and holy eagerness to experience God's wonders.
When your hands are filled with delicate, thorny rose blossoms, precariously heaped in your hands as they journey into your home to bring beauty and true mystique, do you feel that gentleness of your hands as the thorns scrape and bump you? These children have taught me the painful but amazing work of learning to be kind and gentle.
When your gardening hands are filled with cool crumbly earth and your mind is clear of any thought, do you feel that freedom? These children have taught my marriage the beautiful freedom that life brings. True freedom, not the "freedom" of selfishness.
When your net is heavy in your wet hands and your feet are muddy and browning in the sun, and your gaze spans the majesty of God across the marsh and open skies, do you feel that breath-taking awe? These children have showered awe into the most mundane tasks in my daily routine.
When your hands are full of warm yeasty dough and you mindlessly knead and think of nothing and everything, do you feel the nostalgia? These children have brought nostalgia and warmth into an otherwise meaningless building.
When your hands are full of Jesus, as the priest lays the Eucharist into your being, do you feel that joy? These children have taught me the true, true joy of serving Jesus Christ.
Yes my hands are full. I wouldn't want it any other way.