STORYTIME TAPESTRY

Special Treat    

April 15, 2005

Lessons From My Hands

Carol Roach

When I study my hands I see the wisdom of my years. The skin on my hands is no longer supple. Its elasticity has stretched; just as my knowledge of the world has stretched as I age and continue my journey through life.  I continue to grow; to stretch my intellect and to drink in more and more knowledge and understanding of the world around me.

My hands are a reflection of the sacred most precious knowledge that has been given me through my experiences in life.  My hands show that the journey was not easy. They are rough, not smooth and polished like some.  My hands parallel my life for it has been rough; not smooth, not glamorous or polished, not easy in anyway. My hands are the reflection of all that I am and all that I was meant to be.

My hands though aging are still strong.  They hold the power to change what must be changed yet pliant enough to conform and comply where need be.

The knuckles of on my hands are big; they reflect a big heart pulsating within me.  Similarly, the veins in my hands are driven by my heart; my life??™s blood.

In my hands I hold the key to the universe. In my hands I hold wisdom, strength, and compassion from the heart.  I hold the power to live, the power to change, the power to conform and the power to love.

My hands hold the secrets of the universe.  My hands hold the wonders of the world, my world, my life.

Carol

Since I wrote this piece about my grandmother's hands awhile back, I would like to share it with everyone now.

These Hands

These tiny hands of a 3 year old

reached into the cookie jar

only to be met with the cruel sting of her father??™s belt

his ranting and raving about stealing

she felt she would surely go to hell.

These young tender hands at 8 years old

fed and bathed a bedridden grandmother

never faltering always at her beck and call

idle hands were the work of the devil no doubt

these hands had no time to play at all.

The busy hands at 9 years old

took over the running of an entire family

scrubbed and polished, ironed and folded, cooked and baked

education, a useless venture for a girl

a wife and mother to be.

These strong hands of a 10 year old placed a firm grip on the cuff of her father??™s shirt

dragged the dead weight of his drunken body from the dirt

after he had passed out

family rituals take on strange routes.

These searching hands at 17 entered into marriage to rid her life of pain

she cooked and cleaned, and raised a family

he squandered his money on gambling and liquor

the saga was the same, nearly driving her insane.

These willing hands at 37 now lonely for a child

welcomed a tiny baby, almost an orphan

into her modest, but loving home

the cycle of life yet to continue

with a new person added to the plan.

These callused hands well into their 40??™s took in washing to make a living

scrubbed and polished, ironed and folded, cooked and baked

all for the love of that almost orphan child

the sacrifices she did make!

These loving hands of a lifetime knew the harshness that life can bring

yet they tenderly nursed a sick baby

or mended a child??™s broken heart

these hands were a comfort from the start.

These tired hands at 64 were finally laid to rest

no longer would she have to toil and strive to do her best

the pain of life is behind her now, her joy has just begun

unfolding of His wondrous plans, God welcomes her with open hands.