"These 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 clear strong 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 hands?" 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 the following 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. 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 held by the hands of God. 
And I, too,
  want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face. 

  With thanks to Sandra Boles


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