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> The last two or three years my Mom would stare at her hands and say, "Look
> how
> ugly my hands have gotten." She just hated the way her hands had gotten in
> her
> old age. I wish she could have read this.
>
> An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench.
> He
> didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat
> down
> beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I
> wondered
> if
> he was ok.
>
> Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at
> the
> same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me
> and
> smiled.
>
> "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
>
> "I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring
> at
> your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok?" I explained to him.
>
> "Have you ever looked at your hands?" he 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 he was making.
>
> Then he 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
> dried
> the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life.
>
> They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I 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 the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my
> parents
> and
> spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and
> sure
> when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best
> friends
> foot. 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 He
> won't
> care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What He
> will
> care
> about is to whom these hands belong and how much He loves these hands. And
> with
> these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands
> to
> touch the face of Christ.
>
> *************** No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I
> never
> saw the old man again after I left the park that day but I will never
> forget
> him
> and the words he spoke. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke
> the
> face
> of my children and wife, I think of the man in the park. I have a feeling
> he
> 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.
>
>
>
> Thank you, God,
>
>
>
>
>
>
 

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kept in His hands
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1,334 Posts
That was beautiful. Just yesterday I found myself staring at my hands with disgust. They look different to me these days. They have a few age spots or sun spots forming and the skin is starting to look a little wrinkled. I kept thinking 'are these really my hands, the hands of a 38 year old?' Thanks for giving me a better perspective. :)
 
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