My grandma’s hands
Ain’t no ordinary hands.
They could heal you faster than medicine
Calm you quicker than prayer–
Sometimes both at once.
Grandma’s hug?
Baby, they rearranged your whole spirit
Took the tears right out your throat
And gave you back your laugh.
Those hands taught me how to fold mine,
How to talk to God without speaking too loud.
How to cook a meal that could stretch across generations,
And still tastes like Sunday morning.
Grandma’s hands would pop you
When you needed correcting.
Then turn around and wipe the very tears they caused.
“That’s love, you know–double-sided, unshakeable”
She bathed us, rocked us, picked us up off the ground
Like it was the most natural thing a woman could do
Like all our hands didn’t already rest heavy on her shoulders.
Those hands clapped in church
Not out of duty
But out of glory–
As if to say: “God, You see me.”
I’m still here.
And every time the family circles up
Grandma’s hands sealed the prayer.
Stitched us together like we were her quilt
Her masterpiece, her forever project.
And the truth is–
Grandma’s hands were loved
More than she could ever understand.
Because we never said it enough
Maybe we thought she’d always be here.
But I helped those hands. When they grew tired–
When they let go of this world.
And grief showed up
Like a stray dog at my door.
I tell myself
“Grief is just love
With nowhere to go.”
So I place it back in my memory
Right there in Grandma’s hands.
The place I learned
What love feels like.
And Lord,
I miss those hands.
BABL 