Gramma’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.”

“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.”

“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.

-Author Unknown

And so when I look at my own hands , showing signs of wear,
I’ll remember the cradles they rocked, the comfort they’ve delivered
And I’ll praise my maker for the signs
that they’ ve been used by Him to minister grace.

Isn’t that the legacy we want for our hands?


10 thoughts on “Gramma’s Hands

  1. Kay, I use most of my own photos here but didn’t take this one. Isn’t it beautiful. You can tell I didn’t take it cause it’s black and white and I’m all about color.Ton, I think we should do a shot like this sometime after one of the kid has a baby.

  2. Oh Jan, Thank you for spurring memories of my grandmother this morning. It’s odd, but her hands are one of my most precious memories. As I age I often look at my own hands to check their resmblence to hers. I guess its a way of gauging whether I am the wife/mother/grandmother she was. My answer is always – not yet. I can remember, even as a young adult sitting in her rocker with her, my head against her shoulder, my hands in hers. She would hum one of those old lullabies she used to sing to us as children and use her thumb to rub the back of our hands. I would just sit and watch her hands and be comforted by the love I felt in them. Thank you for starting my morning well.

  3. That is so beautiful! I love it! It is so true too! I love old ladies hands, they are so lovely and have worked so hard for so many years. My hands are starting to look old and I am TRYING to embrace it rather than be bummed about it!Hugs, Sharon

  4. Jan, I loved this post, I unfortunately never was able to meet either set of grandparents as they passed on before I arrived.hey just wanted to follow up on the book I won, Teaching Your Child About Sex by Grace Ketterman, MD, I have a sneaking suspicion that it has been lost in the mail just wondered when you sent it? Thanks and have a great weekend!

  5. Steph, So sorry about your grandparents. I pray that you will be able to meet them one day. Package mailed on MLK day. I’ll look into it.

The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time. - Psalm 34:19

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s