GRANDMA'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," 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 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 the following 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.

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 held by the

hands of God.

And I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel

His hands upon my face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the person

who sent it to you and watch God's answer to prayer

work in your life. Let's continue praying for

one another. Passing this on to anyone you consider

a friend will   bless you both.

Pass this on to one not yet considered

a friend. It is something Christ would do.

Have A Great Day And God Bless!