“Dear Mom” Letters: Empty Plate Full Heart

“Dear Mom” Letters: Empty Plate Full Heart

This week’s “Dear Mom” letter comes from the dear lady I like to think of as my For the Love momma.

Andrea Stunz not only shared my #texasstrong fundraiser in the Facebook group for our launch team weeks before she or I ever knew I was a part of it, she’s also the one who finally got me added to said group after I discovered that I was, indeed, on this wild team.

Plus she’s from Texas, so, I mean, what’s not to love?


Dear Mom,

I have your hands.

I didn’t know this when I was little for your hands covered mine. Your hands taught mine. Your hands guided mine. Your hands were bigger. More.

andrea stunz dear mom

A little story…

I have paid for pretty nails for a thousand years. I am a 48 year old perfectionist, control freak who has a seemingly unkickable nervous habit of chewing her nails.

It’s a real problem. I’m disciplined in so many areas but this one… I can’t kick it. So, because my God-given nails are not pretty, I pay for my nails. People will ask me, “Are those your nails?” And I say, “Yes”. Well, they are! I paid for them. Haha!

Recently, though, I went to my salon to get my nails done and discovered that underneath the acrylic nails, water had seeped in and begun turning 4 of my nails a brownish color. So I had them all soaked off and she cleaned up my real nails as best she could. I will go au natural and let them heal and get healthy again. I’m super nervous about whether I can keep from chewing them to nubs, though. Chewing my nails seems so juvenile. I really need to get a grip on this addiction.

The reason I tell you this story is because when my fake nails came off and my real hands were revealed, I looked at them and immediately thought, “I have my mom’s hands.” I wasn’t sad about that. But honestly, y’all, they’re not pretty. My mom would say the same thing about hers.

I’ve always been embarrassed about my hands. I’ve spent many years hiding them or curling up my fingers so my nails wouldn’t show. My mom and I, we have short, stubby fingers, my skin is getting wrinkly and her bones are getting wrinkly. We have thin fingernails, incessantly dry cuticles, short nail beds… We just didn’t win in the hand department. The feet department either but that’s another story for another day… .

Mom, in all of our short, stubby, wrinkled-ness… I have your hands.

Your hands that heal.
Your hands that cook.
Your hands that rock.
Your hands that play the piano.
Your hands that write.
Your hands that create.
Your hands that serve.
Your hands that love.

For in having your hands, I know I also have your heart.

That is not a bad hand to be dealt. Not a bad hand at all. I pray that I play my hand(s) well, worthy of the one whose hands mine resemble.

One day, when I wasn’t a little girl anymore, your hands had to let mine go. Your hands released me to do my own healing, cooking, rocking, playing, writing, creating, serving and loving. Now our hands live side by side.

While your hands no longer cover mine, your hands are still more, so much more, and always will be.

I love you, Mom!


Andrea Stunz dear mom letter

Andrea Stunz at Empty Plate.Full Heart

Andrea is a wife of 26 years (and counting), mom to three amazing gifts from God, a blessed mother in law and a ridiculously proud grandmother. She is a Christ-follower, storyteller, seeker, writer and a stumbling pilgrim in need of grace at Empty Plate.Full Heart. Andrea loves cooking and sharing good food and capturing stories through the camera lens as often as possible.

She finds peace, comfort and hope in Colossians 1:17, knowing:

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.


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