Hand Prints On My Heart

Oh how my hearts has been missing Utah lately. I miss so much our memories there, the majesty of the mountains we often hiked as a family, all our family spots there, our family, our friends and all our adventures. I miss it all so much lately. I miss being surrounded by those who know my whole family and each of their faces and sweet voices. 

This last week I found myself on a cold evening cooking dinner for my family. As I looked out the window I noticed that it had steamed up from all the heat from the stove. It was strange I found myself staring at that fogged up window looking for little handprints and fingerprints smothering my window. My mind and heart immediately went back to our old living room window, covered in dirty little hand prints of Miles'. Oh how I miss seeing those hand prints!! My mind then went back to this post about that very window. Click Here.

As I read through this old post I wrote almost two years ago (could it really be that long ago?). I realized I needed to read this again. I needed this reminder that everyone has a struggle and those struggles are real. That I am not anyone to judge or speak ill of those who are trying so hard to be better, because we all are trying to be better in our own way. It might not be the way you or I would approach a problem but they are trying the best they can to carry the load they are faced with.

I then also realized another thing when I gazed at that foggy window and and longed for those hand prints to appear again. I realized that although no one around me now knows my son or knows his sweet smile and his gentle and kind personality, that although they don't see his hand prints on my window, it doesn't matter. Because I carry him and his hand prints all over my heart and soul. He is with me each and everyday, whether I feel him or not. And because I carry him with me, others do feel him. Many have told me they do. And that is more powerful and sacred to me than any dirty window covered in they physical proof that my son lived. Each of my children has marked my heart with their tiny hands and spirits and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life. What more could a mother ask for?