Your Hands are Full

“Your hands are full,” they say,

At the grocery store, when my buggy is full of groceries stacked around my girls

At the restaurant, when my ears are filled with their little voices crying and my plate still filled with food

In the parking lot, with each hand filled with one of my daughters as we hurry to the car

At church, with a diaper bag full of toys and snacks to fill their hands and bellies

At home, when my floor is filled with toys and my laundry basket full of clothes

And they’re right. My hands are full, overflowing really.

At the grocery store, where my ears are filled with their giggles as they play inside the buggy.

At the restaurant, where mind fills with the memories of watching our little family fill the booth.

In the parking lot, where hands fill with their little fingers that squeeze mine as we hurry to the car

At the church, where my eyes fill with the sight of their hands raised in worship and their faces scrunched in focus as they play in front of the chair.

At our home, where my heart fills with their love and my shelves fill with photos marking the way they grow and change as they fill the rooms.

My hands are full these days, sometimes with tears and tantrums, but mostly just with my very own little blessings, the very ones I prayed for, resting in my lap.

My hands are full these days, and I wouldn’t change a thing.