My Grandma’s hands

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sols_blueI’m nervous as a little cat.  Tomorrow is the day.  They are negotiating and I’m praying for a miracle and also running to the washroom after every small group I see.

I look down at my hands, typing on my keyboard.  I’m trying to relax.  Trying to let the words flow out through my fingers, through the tapping.  I look down at my, 50 something hand again.  I see a few spots, bigger than freckles.  The are reminiscent of another hand, a familiar hand.   My bones are more pronounced and I  catch a glimpse of a bluish line that seems to pulse a bit as I type.  My fourth finger on my right hand is the giveaway.  It is a small, simple band with four small diamonds.  My hands are not my hands any longer, they become my Grandma’s hands.  I sigh, I tear,  remembering her hands, her loving and hard-working hands.  I wear the only ring I ever saw on her hand to bring Grandma to mind every single day.

What would she say to me  today?  The day before I walk the line?  Would she be proud?  Or would she pretend she didn’t know me and mutter words of disdain that many of us will hear tomorrow?  I continue to type, to write and I clearly see her reading all her books in the bay window with the sun shining down.

I hear her say, “Reading is a gift that keeps on giving, Nancy.  Fight to keep on reading, fight to keep on learning, fight to keep on….teaching the children.”

I imagine her typically solemn eyes and say to myself.  I am fighting for the next generation of children, 34 first graders with only one teacher to teach them.  I’m fighting for their right to a quality education with a teacher that has time to sit beside them, listen to them, confer with and laugh with them as they are enjoying Pete the Cat’s latest adventure.  I’m walking the line for them.  I pray tonight for a miracle.  I’m glad my hands look like my Grandma’s now, lined  and freckled but still strong and very determined.

XO nanc

PS I wrote this after school today.  We all just found out that tomorrow we will walk the line for the children of our community. I would appreciate the prayers of our ‘slicing’ community.

I’ve always loved this song by Bill Withers…I love song lyrics

Grandma’s hands
Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma’s hands
Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma’s hand

If I get to Heaven

I will look for Grandma’s hands.

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About Judson RISE professor

lifelong teacher who is semi-retired (does this sound better?) who loves God, family and laughing... who hates social injustice... who wants to write every day... who needs to exercise every day... who blog hops... who wants to live her everyday life led by her savior, Jesus Christ!

8 responses »

  1. I hope there will be a resolution to this conflict soon. You voice is filled with sadness that it has come to this. Slowly parts of our bodies change and we recognize ancestors from our past. Your grandma sounds like a special person.

  2. I am amazed and find strength when I hear my mother’s words coming from my mouth. I think you will find your grandmother would be proud of you. I hope the resolution works out the best for your students and you! Stay strong.

  3. We are not allowed by law to strike, or we’d be out right now. I keep remembering the sign I saw recently; We are teachers we are not the enemy.

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