The Hands of Time

A little over a year ago I worked in long term health care. I so enjoyed my time with the elderly. There is something special in each one of these people. And their hands are as unique as they are.

Tonight, I am reflecting on hands. I am thinking of all the life lived through them from infancy to the very old.

I watched elderly hands work while crafting and playing games. I watched as they held onto a walker or a favorite treasure. I felt the gentleness when they touched the waves in my hair. I felt the warmth of their hand in mine.

I examined their hands. The thinness of the skin. The blue veins that seem to have tripled in size. The crooked boniness. The strength. Scars and age spots. All the tales of a life lived wrapped up in hands.

If only their hands could talk…

The babies held, cradled, and burped

The wiping of tears that were cried

Gardening and planting; covered in dirt

The mountains of dishes, washed and dried

Blisters and callouses; the pain and the hurt

Saluting in honor, reverence, and pride

Folded in prayer; sinful ways to avert

Holding their spouse; true love by their side

Decades of loving and living. Of laboring long and hard throughout their days.

Cherish the hands in your life this Thanksgiving. The young and the old. Think about their life story. Be grateful they are here. Many who were around our table last year are gone today. Including my father.

From birth to death, our hands tell a story. Our story. Make yours a good one. ♥️

Happy Thanksgiving!


2 thoughts on “The Hands of Time

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