These Hands

They played the piano as a child, and played the organ at Church.

They carried books to and from school, and wrote lessons for homework.

They drew in high school art classes, they worked in a hospital kitchen after school, and changed diapers for babies being sat.

They held babies and their baby hands, they bathed those little people, read to them, and held them while being rocked to sleep. They brushed her daughter’s golden hair while praying she always be safe.

They comforted in the middle of the night, they have cooked, cleaned, and driven to the doctor, pushed strollers, wagons, Tonka Trucks and big wheels.

They have held hands at the dentist, thrown baseballs and kept score, put lures on fish hooks, created clothing for everyone.

They have cooked and baked. Loved baking. And cleaned the kitchen promptly. They have decorated Christmas trees, made stockings, outfits, wreaths, and then put it all away for next time.

They held her Father’s hand as he lay ravaged by cancer, and her husband’s hand through his multiple heart catheterizations, and held her husband’s hand during her own needle biopsy for breast cancer.

She held her son’s hands through life threatening illnesses and accidents, and locked the front door nightly while praying to God to keep them all safe.

They clicked away on computer keys to write code and design input screens, and turned pages of college textbooks until she received her college degree.

They have dug in dirt to plant seeds, rhizomes, and beautiful plants. They have been dirtied with varnish removed, roughed up with sandpaper and varnished bare woodwork in that old home.

They have painted rooms, hung wallpaper, crocheted afghans, made quilts, baby layettes, crib sheets, flannel blankets for swaddling. And the feel of a baby feeding or sleeping while they have held the baby tightly. No other feel or smell in the world.

These hands have worked very hard. They have been given many talents. They have prayed to God over a lifetime to keep everyone safe, they have created many things. They shook hands with a United States President.

They are aged, can’t keep a manicure on, break nails regularly, and are losing their strength and reliability. They have arthritis and have had many privileges throughout this life. They wear their wrinkles and scars with pride and with thanks to God for everything He has allowed them to do. May they continue to be busy and creative through the rest of my life.

What are your hands doing today? Let me know in the comments. Thank you for reading.

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