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Handprints of Love

A grandmother loves the handprints left behind by her little grandchildren.

Handprints of love

Our grandchildren had made several visits in the span of a few days. They watched movies. They ate. They snuggled. And the glass doors in our kitchen slid open and shut countless times as they zipped in and out to play and to watch the wildlife in our backyard. 

Several nights later, on a muggy summer night, gloom and rain rolled in. I heard my husband walk through the kitchen, and then I heard his footsteps come to a sudden stop. He called out, “Honey, come here! You’ve got to see this.” I knew what he was talking about. I’d seen it moments earlier, but I walked back in so he could show me.

The humidity had made the glass doors fog up a little bit, and there nestled among the glistening raindrops on the glass were perfect little handprints in a variety of sizes. Our grandchildren’s. There was an indescribable beauty in that scene. Precious reminders of the sweet impressions they make not only on our hearts, but also on our home.

That night as Paul and I stood there in our kitchen with his arm wrapped around my shoulder while we looked at those little impressions, we were reminded of how blessed we are to have those children in our lives. Tears filled my eyes as I whispered a prayer, “Lord, please let me leave handprints on their hearts for You.”

I hope I leave handprints of love. An overwhelming love for God and for them. I hope I leave handprints of compassion and kindness, an example of how to love others. I hope I leave handprints of joy and laughter, of moments spent together, of memories to last a lifetime. I hope I leave handprints of prayer. Not only for the days they’re living now, but bottled-up prayers for future days when I’ll no longer be here. I hope the handprints I leave on their hearts will provide a reflection of Jesus.

And you know what? Even though I’ve cleaned my kitchen numerous times since the night of noticing the handprints on the doors, I haven’t cleaned those glass doors. I keep hoping that we’ll get to see those little handprints just one more time. But if not, it’s okay—because it’s for certain that those precious little ones have already left handprints on our hearts.

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