Baby Hands

I noticed my daughter studying the four year old's hand the other day. 

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

She replied, "He still has baby hands" while holding his hand in hers. 

I dropped down beside her and studied his hand. It didn't take but a few seconds for him to snatch his hand away, poking out his tongue at us at the same time.  Yep, that's Zane. Never one much for sentiment.

It's true, though. Even as time slips toward his five year old birthday, there are still remanents of babyhood that I can catch a fleeting glimpse of - his cheeks, a few of his words and those hands. 

Maybe we cling to the baby parts of him because he is the baby of the family. As much as I love having big kids, and as much as I love reveling in the ease that having older kids bring, I still mourn the baby days at times. And as I feel those baby hands rub my arm or pat my back, I fully realize that these days are quickly coming to a close.

And I'm okay with that. I don't have to think back too far to remember how hard those days were.

Whew.

God is good. 

I'm thankful to my girl for pointing out those baby hands. I need help in slowing down to notice the little things that will all too soon be gone forever. As I drove down the road and noticed that baby hand out the back window, it made me smile. 

Lord, help me notice and be so very humbly thankful for the little things.