05/02/2026
These hands of mine ... some days I catch a glimpse of them and I am taken aback at how old they look. It’s in those moments I am reminded of the stories these hands have supported and guided, beginning firstly with my own.
I trust every single situation I have found myself in has aided in the wisdoms gained, the growth encompassed, the creation of and expansion into exactly who I am, today.
A lifetime of experiences and emotions ... struggles, defeats, triumphs and change; fifty four + years of the highest of highs, the lowest of lows, and everything imaginable in between.
The past sixteen by far the most difficult and productive, requiring everything from deep within me to move from merely surviving to thriving.
These hands have journeyed with me through cancer; raised and protected my children; supported me through my own personal dark nights of the soul in the depths of emotional, physical and spiritual battlegrounds; taken to task those I never expected I would need to and those I knew I had no choice but to; held my brother’s, mother’s and father’s hand as they returned Home; walked my children through many scenarios that children should never have to face ... and yet lines only appear on my hands for I refuse to allow similar scars to burden my heart.
These hands have held space and offered healing to hundreds of others; some whose stories may have held reflections of my own, while some not.
These hands hold valuable stories that in time will be penned for all to read ...
These hands, they hold my life ~ of that I am reminded each time I gaze upon them.
These are my tools, these are my practice ... they are mine and mine alone ~ never to be duplicated, nor imitated for that makes them and me unique to the world.
CharB♡