The Hand

November 26

There it is! The shadow of a hand is on my bedroom floor. I scream as only an eight-yar-old can. My mother flicks on the light. I insist the hand was there. My mother turns out the light and sits on my bed. Soon the moonlight reappears on the floor. “Look,” I yell, “There is THE HAND.”I hear her gasp. My mother saw it too. In the light I can see a frown then a smile. She removes a cutout of Pinocchio waving from the wall. When she turned out the light again and the moon glowed on the floor the hand was gone.

I am thankful for a mother who showed her boy compassion.

“Now we exhort you, brethren, warn those who are unruly, comfort the fainthearted, uphold the weak, be patient with all.” (1 Thessalonians 5:14)