Grandma's Hands

Discussion in 'Belief and Spirituality' started by Bendee, Oct 28, 2006.

  1. Bendee

    Bendee Namaste

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    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 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. "Have you ever
    looked at your hands?" she asked. "I mean, really look
    at your hands?"

    I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I
    turned them over,palms up, palms down. No, I guess I
    never had 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 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 trembled and
    shook when I buried my parents and spouse. They have
    held children, 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 my 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 considered a friend is
    something Christ would do.!

     

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