Thought some of you might enjoy this. Mod’s if this is wrong place feel free to move it.
Grandpa, some ninety plus-years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move; he just sat with his head down staring at his hands.
When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat, I wondered if he was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him, but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.
He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," he 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 he was making. Grandpa 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 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 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 trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.
* 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 my life.
* But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.
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