Grandma's Hands

[2tiredmom]

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This is good; I'll never look at my hands the same!
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 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 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.

[Lindsey]

This got me all teary!

[DianaB]

That was very moving! It made me think of my Grandma's hands and then, my own. Thanks for sharing!

[Janet]

What a wonderfu piece to share. Thanks Linda!

[Mandy]

That is very special! Thanks for sharing

[rivermom]

I've been so emotional these past couple days and reading this made my eyes well up in tears.

Normally when I look at my own hands I see wrinkles and dry skin. Not once ever seeing them did I think about the special things I have done with them. Reading this today made it all much clearer.

What have YOU used your hands for today that has meant something to YOU?

This is what my hands of done so far today.

I reached over in bed and touched my husband at midnight when he just got home and climbed into bed. He was away yesterday kissing his Mother good-bye who is just moments away from dying. I was glad to touch him and know he was home safe.

I pet my dogs this morning.

I hugged my husband and touched his face.

I held a hot cup of coffee to warm my soul and body.

I used my hands to put on my make-up to make me feel prettier.

I gathered my clothes, something warm to wear for a cold day.

I drove my vehicle to work. Without work we'd not have money to survive.

I dialed my friend's number on my cell phone. My friend and I had such a heartwarming conversation that I have been thinking about all day.

I went shopping to pick out an outfit for a funeral I will be attending soon.

I caressed my horse and fed her.

I typed on my computer to chat with you all.

I used my hands to eat my lunch.

I havent used my hands today in prayer. I guess I need to go do that now.


Thanks for this reminder today on what our hands are truly for. I will now try to not look at them just to see them dry and wrinkled. I will forever try to remember how useful they are to do special things in my day.

[Janet]

Sheryl, I wish I could just wrap my arms around you and give you strength to carry on in the next few days. Tears are welling up because I can feel the pain in your post. I do wish I was with you to comfort you....

[Janet]

Originally Posted by 2tiredmom

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This is good; I'll never look at my hands the same!
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 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 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.

Kind of reminds me of the country song (can't remember who sang it), but it's "Daddy's Hands." Know which one I'm talking about?