My Hands

The inspiration for this post is:
from http://brittarnhildshouseinthewoods.typepad.com/brittarnhilds_house_in_th/  Britt wrote about her hands yesterday, in a post. I asked for permission to copy a line or two. Here is what she said, "If I had to choose between beautiful nails and elegant fingers, I have no doubt. I prefere the two I have. They show all the 56 years they have lived and loved and worked, and they proudly show it. Wrinkles, broken nails and all.

My Hands, by Balisha

From the very first moment of birth my hands have been important to me. The first little dimpled fist and tiny fingers wrapped around a parents finger...is what every parent remembers with joy. Later on I gazed with wonder at my hands waving in the air. The first wave bye, bye, patti cake, playing peek a boo, this little mousie, itsy bitsy spider, and blowing a kiss, "Now I lay me down to sleep" with folded hands..

As time went on playing in the sandbox, modeling clay, mud pies, helping to make cookies.....fingers in the dough, catching bugs.Holding a fat Crayola crayon, a pencil, a paintbrush.

I went on in school and used my hands to turn the pages in history books, gestures in a class play,make pottery with potter's wheel, began to  feel compassion for another...a pat on a friend's back, when she was in trouble.

A new stage in life when I married and used my hands to start creating in the kitchen, make curtains, apply makeup, turn the pages in the newspaper. Then in my first pregnancy, feeling the baby move in my belly...wow, what a sensation that was the first time! The touch of my baby's dimpled hands, the joy of folding diapers.

I loved being a Mom. I changed diapers, curled hair, wiped noses, tied shoes,  fed meals, calmed a crying child, turned pages in a book..."Go Dog Go" cleaned up messes, wrung hands when they were sick, bandaged boo boos, soothed a brow and so many other things that come with being a Mom. Later in my life, I waved goodbye as they left home, and wiped my tears.

The later years were filled with using my hands to garden, paint, create things, cooking for two, care of aging parents, caressing Mom with Alzheimer's...holding her hand, patting Dad's shoulder.."It will be all right," Cared for sick husband, gripping the arm of hospital chair, prayed for him, soothed him, fed him,  and last...scattered his ashes.

By now I am  a widow and use my hands to cook for one, knit, craft, paint, gardened,cleaned, touched my grandchildren, soothed babies, patted the dog, folded hands and prayed.

I met someone, and shook his hand for the first time. Patted his dog and mine, cooked his favorite meal, and later...took his hand in marriage.  I've helped to make a home for us.... using my hands to decorate, clean, garden, soothed him before surgery, put on those elastic stockings, with my arthritic hands, held his arm as he walked with a new hip, learned new computer skills, learned to love writing.....tapping the keys of the keyboard.

As my son was dying last summer, I wiped his brow, and touched his face for the last time. I wiped away many tears.

It's just about full circle now. My hands are looking old, never had a professional manicure, countless bottles of hand lotion don't change things. Wrinkles appear almost daily. These old hands of mine have seen it all... from my first little fingers wrapped around my parent's hands, holding my newborns, intimate touches in marriages, soothing older people, waving goodbyes, blowing kisses, cooking countless meals, yes my hands have been busy.

Along with Britt who says, that she has earned these hands. I feel like I have earned every wrinkle on my hands... just as I have earned every wrinkle in my face. So, now, when I shake hands at the "Sign of Peace" at St. Mary's, I will look down at my hands and say...."Job well done."

Balisha