Today, as is our custom on the Sabbath, we loaded what children we could round up and headed to our chapel. I know some think we are odd and even deluded to participate in such activities. We don't. We try to go each and every Sunday, as well as participating in a few church-related activities during the week.
No, the reason I cried today has nothing to do with the amount of time we spend at church. I like being there, with other people of faith and the fellowship and spirit that's always there bolsters me and carries me into the week feeling uplifted.
But I digress.
In the pew, we were sitting with Ashley on the end, then Lance, then Stephanie and Allison then me. Chris had to work so he wasn't with us today.
No, the sitting arrangement in our pew didn't make me cry--though I wouldn't have minded sitting next to my husband.
Alli and Steph have a sweet habit of cuddling...hugging and leaning on one another. At night we can hear them (they share the room off ours) laughing and giggling and yelling. It makes me smile.
As Alli leaned over to lay her head in Stephanie's lap, I placed my hand on Stephanie's hand, which was laying on Alli's shoulder. Stephanie's hands. So beautiful. Long, slender fingers, beautifully shaped nails that taper to the exquisite ends of her fingertips. I held her hand in mine---my pudgy old stubby hands---and I marveled that I'd had any part in this beauty.
Then, as sometimes happens, my memory flashed on Stephanie's hands as an infant. The way just placing my finger in her palm would cause her tiny fingers to curl around my single digit and hold tight.
I placed my pinky on her open palm and nothing happened. Her eyes met mine and she held my gaze. I smiled at her, looked down at my hand on hers, then I looked back into those startling blue eyes and my own green eyes started to fill.
No more tiny fingers curled over my own. She doesn't need to hold on that tight any longer.
She might not need that...but sometimes I do. Sometimes...I just do.