THE NICEST HANDS
(In Remembrance of my Mom)

By Kat

Hands are unique: They were created by God to accomplish many things. Hands can reveal a lot about a person, just like the marks each hand bears. These marks are what sets them apart from all other hands in the world. Hands can be used to dispense both tenderness or cruelty... love or hate. Hand shakes, waves, gestures, hands tightened into fists, each tells a story. Some hands are taken for granted, others are used as God intended them.

The nicest hands I ever contacted were red hands with short nails... the evidence of how hard this person worked every day. Whenever someone stopped by to visit, they were quickly hidden beneath an apron she always wore... in shame of how they looked. They were the special hands of a shy, quiet, loving wife and mother.

My mom’s hands not only worked in our home, many hours of every day, but they also cleaned other people’s houses and took in their laundry, to make what she liked to call “pin money” to buy those extras which the money from my fathers’ wages couldn’t afford. She seldom bought things for herself but gave to others... joyfully.

Every month her work worn hands would lovingly dust church alters, wash and iron their special cloths and prepare communion glasses. Every Sunday they tenderly held on to a hymn book; always they were folded in prayer for her family, friends and other people. Today I am still reaping the benefits of all of her prayers for me!

Her hands were like those of an artist, but instead of using a brush, paint, and canvass, hers became embroidered masterpieces on cloth. With needle and thread, that she meticulously applied, they became beautiful dresser scarfs, pillowcases, pictures, and dish towels. When she’d finished she’d wrap them to give as gifts to loved ones.

They were the hands of a caring neighbor and friend who would take hot dishes to those who were grieving a loss or were sick. She would always offer to help them in many other ways, too. She was a true humanitarian who howed loving kindness to many. She continuously praised her Lord and graciously prayed for others.

When I was small, my mom’s hands brushed my hair, rubbed me with Vicks to relieve sniffles, and soothingly wiped away my tears. Her hands whipped up many batches of mouth watering cookies for my friends and me and later on, after I left home, for other kids. Each week they pounded and shaped dough into loaves of fresh bread.

My mother’s hands were those of a protector, first to me, then to the foster children they took into their home when I was gone, and later to her four grand-children whom she both loved and cherished. She could abolish their childish fears with her soothing voice and
caressing hands, which brought great comfort to a frightened child

Hers were hands of tenderness when she’d frame a child’s face between them, then cover it with her special butterfly kisses. Her hands worked miracles when she administered first aide to cut knees and bruises or as she would diligently dig out a buried sliver. After she wiped away their tears she’d place a cookie in each hand.

Her hands became child-like when she’d play with her foster children and grandchildren; kneeling, with them at the lake’s beach, she’d help them build sand castles, roads, and forts. Wading and splashing in the water they’d all fall down laughing. Her foster-kids and grand-kids knew she loved them all the same.

Her hands showed strength, endurance and playfulness as she pushed her ‘kids’ on the swings as they shouted “higher, higher.” Then she would twirl them ever faster on the merry-go-round as they pleaded, “more, more,” until she was exhausted and stop. They’d stagger and fall laughing and she’d laugh along with them.

Her hands were those of a comforter – even on her deathbed. With swollen hands she’d hold my sons, then she’d stroke his face. She’d sooth all of our fears and brush away tears, and share her faith. Her precious hands always showed the love she experienced in God. The hands she placed trustingly into His to take her last journey...home!