Grandma, some ninety plus years old, was sitting on the patio bench with her head down staring at her hands. Not wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she were okay. 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 okay," 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 this story: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 neighbours, 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 God."
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 will always think of Grandma and her hands.
Contributed by: Angela Ooi.
