This morning as I was walking to the back door from the back yard at the mission home, I caught sight of something very beautiful! The sun was hitting the glass panes in the door in such a way that it brought to light tiny finger and hand prints! I stopped and admired them for a few moments as I tried to make out whose precious hand may have left a whole print. I now have more than just fun memories of the six darling grandchildren that visited me this past week. I will wait a few months to wash those panes. It brought to mind a funny memory from about 30 years ago. Of course, I don't remember the exact details of the story or our conversation, but it went something like this:
As we were getting ready to depart my parent's home in Moab, Utah, to go back to where we were living in Carrollton, Texas, I surveyed their house to see what I could do to undo some of the havoc our tiny daughters had wreaked. I got out a bottle of Windex and proceeded to start washing away the hand prints from the glass door when Moma spotted me at my project.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she almost yelled at me.
"I'm washing the fingerprints from your glass," I explained, puzzled as to why this was a "capital crime." (After all, I was only trying to be helpful.) I immediately stopped my task, realizing that she did not want me removing the evidence of tiny fingers eagerly exploring "Grandma's house."
"I always leave them there to look at," confessed my mother somewhat sheepishly. "I will wash the glass before you come back," she promised, tears coming to her eyes.
"Oh Moma, I don't care if you leave them there forever." I replied as I hugged her.
And so things have come full circle. I now can find the same value in dirty windows that my mother does. Some of the same grand children who decorated my window panes (her great grand children) visited her a few weeks ago with their mother who is her oldest grandchild and one of the original finger print artists from 30 years ago. I'll bet Moma's windows still proudly display the evidence of their visit, and will for a long time. Moma will be 85 in July.