Hands
www.pittparents.com
I read a post today on a site promoting mental health. The recommendation to the poster seeking comfort was to look at the ceiling, at your hands, etc. Since I am having a moment, I looked at my hands.
My hands held my daughter when she was born almost 23 years ago. These hands bathed her, dried her, changed her diaper. These are the hands that moved her hair off her beautiful face. These hands picked her up to hug her because she gave the best hugs. They cupped her face to give her a kiss. These are the hands that clapped when she accomplished something that made her happy. These hands wiped her tears when she was crying.
These hands are weary now and the tears that I wipe are my own.
Keep believing. Keep praying. Here is a link that might encourage you. God bless ❤️🙏🏼
https://www.instagram.com/p/C-GnCGNOjdo/?igsh=MWZ3dTNrNzNscnI2
Powerfully heartbreaking. I am sorry your daughter is lost in this evil cult which leaves us all feeling a bit haunted by the past. Our memories of once was, what our loved ones once looked like, once acted like. Painful to remember what our dreams were. I hope your family can heal and reconnect. I pray your daughter returns to being your daughter. Keep your hope alive. You are not alone.