Thursday, April 3, 2008

Grandma's Hands

A friend sent this to me and I really enjoyed it, so I thought you might like to read it and maybe look at your own hands in a different light, I know I have….!.

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a strong, clear voice. "I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her. "Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked. "I mean really looked at your hand s?" I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related this story: "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. "They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. "They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. "They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. "These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ." I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face. When you receive this, say a prayer for the person who sent it to you, and watch God's answer to prayer work in your life. Let's continue praying for one another. Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both. Passing this on to one not yet considered a friend is something
Christ would do.

-- Author Unknown

7 comments:

Mike Golch said...

J.D. thank you for posting this life lesion.(Damn I wish spell check was available in the comments section,that way I might make an ass of myself)

Renie Burghardt said...

A beautiful and touching piece, J.D. Thanks for sharing. I came over from Mike's, following his link.

Best wishes.

Renie

Sandy C. said...

So poignant, I loved this post. Thank you so much for sharing this. Came over via Mike Golch.

Hope said...

Hi JD,
First I want to say Happy (belated) Anniversary to you and Jo. Since you two were late for your own wedding, I don't feel so bad being late to say Happy Anniversary! LOL

I enjoyed reading Grandma's Hands. I was just looking at my own hands recently thinking how old they look but I'll look at them differently now.

Speaking of hands..mine were and still are small so I never could master the art of milking. I could get a little stream but that was all. By the time I came along my daddy had taken a public job so they weren't farming a lot and we only had one cow and a bunch of chickens. I did have to churn, though! My mother had two wooden butter molds..a round one and a rectangle one. They each had designs carved in the wood so our butter had a star and a flower on top! We also had electricity and a refrigerator by the time I came along but we still had our old ice box which my mother used to store a set of carnival glass dishes in!! I was the baby of 6 kids and my older siblings would tell me about going to the spring house to get the milk!

Thanks for the memories!

Hugs,
Hope

MYSTI said...

What a touching post, and very thought provoking. If you do not mind i am going to copy and paste this into a letter and send to my family and friends. :)

I hope you and your wife had a blessed anniversary.

Blessings.

swampy said...

Wow! I immediately could picture the hands of both my grandmothers and could hear their voices.
Thanks for such a poignant post.

Cute Girl aka Allie said...

thank you for sharing as well as thanks to mike for sending me here to read this. as a person who uses their hands not only to express themselves(hand talker and painter) but in my work as well as play, this story immediately reminded me of a meditation technique that was taught to me long ago... i hope you don't mind if i share it with you...

starting at your toes (and working up through each body part) mentally compliment it for doing it's job... i.e. thank you pretty toes for providing me balance, thank you strong hands for the work you do... it may be a bit of a struggle at first but i know when i feel my body is in one of it's betraying moods that this simple act of thanks at least puts my head back in the right place and reminds me that even if my body hates me i have millions of reasons to love and enjoy that it's the one i got blessed with.

thank you once again for this touching story from me and my hard working hands :)