Wednesday, May 12, 2010


The Hands of Time
5 Generation Photo by Pamela McFarland Walsh

 I have been noticing lately that my hands are looking more like my dear mothers hands looked. Since I am now a grandma and great grandma; I will never look at my hands again the same way after reading these thoughts. 

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 voice strong.
"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 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:
"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 held my husband and wiped my tears when he 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 my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, 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 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.
This piece was originally published as “Grandpa’s Hands” copyright 2004. The revised version above is posted with the permission of the author.


Barb said...

I love this! I told my mother yesterday that we needed to take her in for a manicure before the wedding. She looked at her hands and said, "I think they look just fine! They look just like my daddy's hands, if they were good enough for him without a manicure, they are good enough for me." I thought it was so cute! Thanks so much for sharing this beautiful thought - I needed to hear it. Mom fell down last night and cut her head and really banged up her arm. We have been so worried about her falling, and it finally happened - we were just glad that she didn't break anything. She finally sold her house, and will be moving into a retirement center - that was like pulling teeth!! But, it will be a good move! We just have to love them! You are such a good example for me - taking such good care of your sweet mother for so long - what a woman! Anyway, loved the story, can't see through the tears, so I better get busy.

Love you,

Sue said...

I like this. Thanks!


Beautiful pear tree lane said...

This is one of the most inspiring posts I have read in a long time, I too will now look at my hands in a very different way, thanks for sharing this . I have been so blessed.

I must apologize for not getting back to you as we have been on vacation in Texas, and have just come home and I am wanting to catchup on my blogging, and I am so glad I came by tonight.

Joy For Your Journey said...

I love that picture! I wish my hands looked that nice and I would want to have a picture done as well--only we only have four generations living.

Thanks for coming by my blog. My goodness! You have 30 grandchildren! How lucky are you!!

singing/granny said...

I love the poem...and especially the picture! Thanks for sharing. Melody


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