Monday, November 23, 2009

The Legacy of Hands

I remember once as a child my Aunt Joyce telling me I had pretty hands. She may have said it to try and inspire me to stop biting my fingernails, or maybe she believed it. I think I believed her because every now and then I think about that compliment and I look at my hands and wonder.

When sitting in a church meeting recently I looked at the hands of a younger woman sitting on one side of me with her young, soft, smooth elastic skin. Then I looked to the other side of me at the hands of an elderly woman with wrinkled skin and arthritic bent knuckles. Then I looked at my own hands with loosening skin and a multitude of little scars because my own klutziness often exhibits itself with wounds on my hands. I used to be embarrassed when comparing my hands to the hands of a younger woman, but then looking at the older ones I realized how much more beautiful those hands were. I am no longer embarrassed of my hands but grateful for them and the opportunities I have had to really use them.

~ Vanilla ~

The Legacy of Hands
by Barbara S. Newbold

I look at the shape of my hands,
fingers, callouses, and lines;
And the years trace back
through ancestors and loved ones,
And I wonder....

Whose hands do mine resemble?
Whose pattern did my square hands follow?
Where did my round finger tips come from?
Who had the deep lines that cross my palm?

Who loved to feel the paintbrush
in their fingers as I do?
Who loved to touch a child's soft hair,
Or stroke a cheek?
Or feel an elderly beloved hand
clasped in theirs?
Whose hands loved the feel of
smooth piano keys under their palm?
Whose cared for the ill,
and prepared bread for their neighbor?
My hands feel the penetration of Spirits gone by....

Whose hands grasped the rail of an unsteady vessel,
As it tossed the sea toward the promised land?
Or pushed a dusty wagon across the prairie?
Whose fingers first turned the pages of the sacred records?

My hands are created from the determined,
caring service and love,
Handed to me from generations gone by.....
A legacy to be nurtured, appreciated,
and carefully passed on
To the children of the future.

by Barbara S. Newbold

Happy Thanksgiving Week.


everydayMOM said...

Awwww... good perspective. I always hate looking at my hands as they are getting older. =]

Joy For Your Journey said...

Oh, I love that!! I am going to be less critical of my hands from now on!! After all, they have done a lot of good and come from a long line of good hard-working people! Thanks for sharing.

Twisted Fencepost said...

Interesting post, Jenny.
Maybe I shouldn't judge my hands so harshly and take better care of them.
I remember my Dad's hands, so strong, yet so gentle.
Similar to my husband's hands.
I love feeling the roughness of his hands, but at the same time I can feel the love in those caloused hands as they touch mine.