Tiny hands. Big impact.
Tracing hands. As a mom it’s something you do with your babies from the very beginning. You trace their hands to pause a moment in time, to create that perfect Christmas ornament, or in an attempt to re-create a thanksgiving turkey craft you’ve seen on Pinterest. Regardless of your intent, our babies learn quickly their role — hand flat, spread fingers, stay still. As they get older the original giggles of the marker brushing the sides of their fingers turn to eye rolls because, “Seriously, mom? I’m too old for this.”
As a mom of two, I have countless crafts that include a traced hand. Crafts that no matter how many accumulate, I hold onto them. They never make their way into the trash, because they are far too valuable. They mean something to me. When I look at those handprints I see my babies in that moment — whatever the age. I can close my eyes and see their face, hear their little voices, and be reminded that those little hands were intricately designed by the Creator of the universe. Tiny hands. Big impact.
Our Better Together team had the opportunity to share this “craft” with the children and “ma’s” in Liberia. It seemed simple enough. We came prepared with the materials — white paper and colored markers. However, I was not prepared for the response. You see, in Liberia, there are no perfectly crafted Christmas ornaments with a chid’s handprint. There are no colored markers that tickle your fingers as they make their way around your hand. There are no schools where teachers send home holiday crafts that include a handprint. Something our kids have been doing since before they could walk and talk, we had to teach the children in Liberia. We had to model for them their role — hand flat, spread fingers, stay still. The giggles that resulted and the looks of pride at the finished product soothed my soul. In addition to the kids, the looks on the “ma’s” faces when we would give them their very own “handprint craft” were recognizable — like looking in a mirror at my own reflection. They were happy and proud, because those handprints mean something to them. We may be from opposites parts of the world, but we have a common thread that ties us together. We are mothers. Mothers who can look at a handprint, close our eyes, and be reminded that those little hands were intricately designed by the Creator of the universe. Tiny hands. Big impact.
Those tiny hands made a lasting impact on my life. The people in Liberia made a lasting impact on my life. The people who sang praises to the Creator while holding sick babies with tiny hands in their laps. The people who washed their clothes in a stream while holding sick babies with tiny hands on their backs. The people who traveled miles to gather in a community for support with tiny hands in their arms. The people whose faces were full of peace even when those tiny hands were housing an IV because, “When you have Jesus, you have everything you need.” The people who gathered together to worship the Lord before taking care of sick babies with tiny hands. Tiny hands. Big impact.
I left my world of plenty and entered one of scarcity but found a fullness of mind, body, and soul. A fullness so sweet I pray it never lessens.
I catch myself looking at the time and thinking about what’s happening at the Jesus Loves Me clinic and His Safe Haven. Although I can’t know for sure, I do know this — The Lord is there. He is working. He is moving. He is healing. He is restoring. He is guiding. He is strengthening. He is loving. And those tiny hands are making big impacts.
-Jordan Poole