Momma’s Hands

I remember when my momma’s hands stopped working—those perfectly moisturized hands that intimately knew the aches and pains of manual labor. Those firm yet gentle hands gripping mine, season after season, giving me the stability I needed to stand and eventually walk through this life. The hands that would whoop my butt when I needed an attitude adjustment were the same hands she used to smooth my hair and wipe my tears because it really did hurt her more than it did me.

Her hands joyfully chopped vegetables, stirred pots, and rolled out dough to create soul-nourishing meals. They reached out and, with a quick flick of her fingertips, she invited all the babies to come sit on Grandma’s lap, to be held tight, encircled by the warmth of her love. Those hands that scrubbed floors and fixed all the broken things…around the house and in us…oh, what an evil plot for the devil to try to take those hands.

I was with her when they said it was ALS. I saw her eyes shifting rapidly as she tried so hard to comprehend all the information they were giving her at once. I saw her reach deep and try to be brave as the doctor pronounced a long, debilitating fight over her life. And this time, it was I who grabbed ahold of her hand to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. We were gonna fight together, hand in hand.

From that day in April 2019, I began to pray like I had never prayed before. My faith was strong and I believed with all my heart that she was about to have the biggest healing testimony I had ever heard…that she would beat ALS and share God’s goodness and mercy with everyone she met, glorifying Him for the miracle He did in her body.

I was so encouraged the day she saw Jesus in the wall of her hospice room. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling from ear to ear. She gasped, “Do you see Him?! He’s right there!” With tears in my eyes, I excitedly asked, “Is it Jesus?! Tell me what you see!” And all she could whisper was, “Oh…He’s so beautiful” as she continued gazing in awe and wonder. It wasn’t the meds. I’m telling you, she saw Jesus. And I thought it was going to happen right then and there. I was sure she was about to get her healing! Yet her stubborn hands hung limp.

A few short days later, at 5:05 a.m. on October 21, 2019, it was her hand I held at her bedside as she transitioned from her peaceful sleep and stepped over into eternity. The nurse called the time and she left us with my momma’s outer shell. The faith I had for her healing fell silently onto the floor.

In a state of tranquil shock, I compulsively filled my empty hands with her things—houseshoes from the closet, toiletries from the bathroom, her phone, and flowers. Nothing felt real anymore, as we slowly made our way to the car. My son and I were mostly silent for the 45-minute drive home, tears gently flowing as Hillsong Young & Free sang about Highs and Lows.

At some point, I remember praying, “God, I love You and I’m not mad at You. But I know You’re a healer, and I prayed and I had faith, yet You didn’t heal her, and I just need You to help me understand that.”

As clear as anything I’ve ever heard in my life, I heard the Father say, “I answered her prayer instead of yours. Is that okay with you?”

My tearful answer was simply, “Yes.”

I think I could have said “no,” and there’s a possibility He would have resurrected her. But all my life, I remember my momma telling me how she wanted to go…peaceful, in her sleep. She was horribly afraid of gasping for air and fighting for her life. And as much as she never wanted to go to a nursing home, she cared more about not being a burden on anyone. She wanted her passing to be quick, but with enough time to say goodbye to all those who loved her, and she wanted to be in her right mind when she did it. And you know what, that’s exactly what God gave her.

Even though my kids and I helped with her caregiving for six months, my momma was never a burden to any of us. She never had to experience the horrors of Alzheimer’s or live a nursing home life. She went straight from the hospital to a beautiful hospice house for her final couple of weeks, where they cared for her like family and we all got to surround her without visitor limitations or access restrictions. With her right mind, she got to say her final words to all of us and she drifted peacefully from her sleep, without a single struggle—her spirit gently releasing my hand to grab ahold of the nail-scared hand of her Savior. God literally granted her every last one of her final wishes, and who was I to take that from her?

I’m so grateful God answers prayer. But I’m even more grateful for the ones He seems not to answer. For in those moments, we can rest assured that He is doing things we can’t possibly comprehend, but we can trust is the better way. No matter how it may feel for us as humans, with our limited knowledge and short-sighted understanding, He is hand-crafting a beautiful tapestry of our lives. And somehow, we’re all interwoven into the beautiful fabric of one another’s lives, and in His unsearchable wisdom and imperishable love, He is taking what the enemy meant for evil and He’s turning it for our good.

So my simple prayer for you today is: as you read this, you will remember that in all our highs and lows, He is always near to the brokenhearted and He saves the crushed in spirit. He’s moved with compassion by our sorrow and He comforts us in all our troubles. Yes, this God of Comfort will help us to grieve, but not as those who have no hope. And when we’re searching for a hand to hold, He offers us His mighty palm, with our name engraved deeply into it, and He invites us to curl up there to be comforted and held.

All praises belong to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he is the Father of tender mercy and the God of endless comfort. He always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so that we can come alongside those who are in any painful trial. We can bring them this same comfort that God has poured out upon us. And just as we experience the abundance of Christ’s own sufferings, even more of God’s comfort will cascade upon us through our union with Christ.

If troubles weigh us down, that just means that we will receive even more comfort to pass on to you for your deliverance! For the comfort pouring into us empowers us to bring comfort to you. And with this comfort upholding you, you can endure victoriously the same suffering that we experience. Now our hope for you is unshakable, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings you will also share in God’s comforting strength.

– 1 Corinthians 1:3-7 (TPT)