Grandma's Hands


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New Jersey
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.!