Beautiful Hands

The day my mother went home to be with Jesus was a day I will never forget.  Still etched upon my mind as her body lay in the bed for us all to visit one last time, I noticed her hands.  “Look how beautiful her hands are,” I remember telling my sister.  I remember my gaze being fixed on them.  It was as if they were speaking to me kindness, gentleness, and goodness and love.

These were not the hands I remember my mother having as we were growing up.  Her hands were cracked from hard work.  Her nails never polished.  I don’t think she ever had a manicure in her life.  Often they were stained from some project she had us doing to keep us busy like making Ukrainian Eggs.  I remember my mom most with her hands covered in dirt for she loved to garden.   She was either planting seeds or tending the plants that were growing up.  The seeds she planted were not just in the soil of the earth, but also in the soil of her children, which were 7, plus all the other children who she did seed planting in with Girl Scouts, CCD and Junior Garden Club (just to name a few). Her hands were dried and cracked from the long hours spent washing dishes and watering the seeds she had planted in our hearts.  I can still see her nails with dirt under them from the constant weeding she did in her flower gardens and in our hearts. Her rough hands nourished our bodies with good food to eat and took care of us when we were sick. 

As she knelt by our beds when we were young, her folded hands taught ours to pray to a loving God.

But now her hands were at rest just as her soul was.  She had used her hands for good.  Martha seemed the perfect name for my mother who always was busy serving someone.

Another pair of hands that were just as beautiful were those I saw during my recovery from surgery.  They were the hands of His body.  The body of Christ in action, the way God designed it to be. Carrying one another’s burden-lifting each other up in prayer - serving selflessly.  These I saw as the body of Christ expressed its heart of love for my family and me.

Hands of little girls who drew me get well pictures

Hands that penned sweet words of encouragement

Hands that folded and lifted us up in prayer

Hands that prepare and carried nourishing meals to our family

Hands that brought gifts to cheer

Hands that took on dirt to weed my gardens

Hands that wrote checks to help with the medical bills

Hands that took on grime to clean my house and do my laundry

Hands that took care of my physical needs

Hands that were laid on me with healing prayers

Hands that held mine and walked with me every step of the way

And of course the most beautiful hands of all.

Hands that catch me when I fall

Hands that pick me up again and dust me off

Hands that point the right direction when I don’t know which way to go

Hands that nudge me forward when I am afraid to take the first step

Hands reaching out touching me with healing, comforting my soul

Hands that hold up the whole world and everything in it

Hands that wrote the truth

Hands that fed the multitudes

Hands that cleansed the leapers

Hands that broke bread and washed feet

Hands that took up a gnarled cross and carried it to Calvary

Hands that took the nails for me

Hands that reach out still to each of us

Lord, give us your heart of love and let our hands become your hands to minister to those in need.