I have always noticed people’s hands.

I remember watching my mom’s hands when I was a little girl. I loved watching them – cooking, gardening, braiding my hair; shopping, when we’d watch tv, when she would drive the car. To this day, the smell of my hands after I cut up carrots, celery, and/or onions, immediately brings me right back into Mom’s kitchen.

My dad’s hands always intrigued me. I loved watching them dance across the adding machine during tax season. I loved watching him out in the garage doing his woodworking projects. I loved when he’d use them to tickle us during our made-up Mr. Gobble game that my siblings and I played with him when Mom was out with her friends. Dad has a ridge on his thumbnail, and I would always rub my fingers over it during church.

My Grandma had fabulous hands. In fact, when I sat down the night before she died to cry, I wrote the following post on this blog:

Grandma’s Hands

I have put off writing this post for as long as possible. It makes me sad. That huge lump in my throat will not go away.  So, here I sit to tell a story. A beautiful story about a wonderful woman.  My Grandma.

Ever since I was little, I have been enthralled with my Grandma’s hands.  They always seemed so warm and incredibly soft.  I loved when she would scratch my back at night (I slept over there when my parents were at the hospital when my brother was born).  She would make me a snack after I walked to her house on Tuesday afternoons after school when my mom was on her weekly bowling league.  Her hands always busy…

As I got a bit older I would watch her hands on our special car rides.  She would pick me up when her odometer was going to change to a big number.  We would honk, sing, and celebrate as the numbers changed on her dashboard.  I would watch her hands on the wheel as she drove me around.

I watched her hands as she would open gifts.  We always teased her as she always took her time opening gifts, savoring every unwrapping step – one flap, then another, then another, etc until the box was unwrapped.   She endured countless badgering on those late Christmas Eve nights when it was her turn to open.  Her hands simply and gracefully open her packages.

As I got even older, I would watch her hands whenever I visited.  I loved when she took my hands in hers.  Always comforting. Always strong.  Always there.

As my grandma transitions into her next chapter of her life, I am left with the warm memories of those beautiful hands.

The hands that helped me as I was growing up.   The hands that hugged me on my wedding day.  The hands that held each one of my kids.  The hands that will soon remain still.

I love you Grandma!  We were so blessed to have you in our lives for so long.  I love the fact that Punky has had you in his life as well.   Little Kirby will have to rely on our beautiful memories, and we will certainly share them with him.  I have so many more memories and stories to share, but all I can think of tonight, are her hands. (pictured above with Kirby’s hand last summer)

I pray that you will soon be at peace and be with Grandpa, Uncle Timmy, Uncle Matt and all of your siblings and your parents.  I envision you entering Heaven with the same smile that is on little Kirby’s face here…and God is reaching out his hands to welcome you…  as you were here with Kirby.  I  love you so very much.

https://kmschad.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/grandmas-hands/

Just imagine the softness, the vastness, the warmth, the love from God’s hands. In my Catholic elementary school, one of my art teachers, Kevin Olis, created a painting of a crowned Jesus cradling the world in his arms. It hung in our school’s office for years.

Another one of his paintings and one I envisioned when I saw that today’s word was “Hands” is one of my favorites. It shows God’s hands with a gorgeous blue background, reaching up and holding the world. A light shines through his palm and shines around the world. It’s beautifully stunning.

Tonight’s prayer: When I look at my hands, O Lord, I see so many parts of my life. I see the scars of childhood mistakes, the calluses of hard work, I see the wrinkles of age. Open these hands of mine, O Lord, so that the things I have gained throughout my life and through these hands may be shared with others, and that your love may be known through me. Amen