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.
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 Jesus Christ would do.
