Shortly after my dad passed away in 2013, I was visiting with my mom, and I was taken by surprise when I looked at her hands. Somehow, my mother and her hands had aged when I wasn’t watching. I asked her if I could take a picture of her hands so that I could write an article, and she consented.
I am just now getting to that article, and I want to tell you a little about the hands you see in this picture. They are much more than the hands of an older woman. These hands belonged to a follower of Jesus who used them in his service all her life.
- These hands are the hands that lovingly held and comforted my two sisters and me while we were babies.
- These hands disciplined us when we needed guidance.
- These hands reached down and steadied us when we were uncertain of our own steps.
- These hands let us go when we eventually pulled away from her help.
- These hands lifted us onto her lap and turned pages as she read Bible stories to us.
- These hands would guide my eyes to help me follow the songbook in church.
- These hands sewed dresses for my sisters and dolls for children in the hospital.
- These hands washed countless glasses when the entire neighborhood would use our house and backyard as a hang-out to play football, basketball, and baseball.
- These hands prepared countless meals for our family and for those who needed help. Mom was known as a great cook, and we rarely ate out. In fact, we preferred it that way.
- These hands held my dad’s hands as she supported him in his work as a gospel preacher for more than sixty years.
But somehow, these hands had aged without my notice. The skin on her hands had become thinner and looser, and veins became pronounced that once weren’t. But they were still the same hands that had spent a lifetime of service to God and man. These hands are the hands that my sister and I held as mom drew her last breath, and I find great peace in knowing that as we let go, my mom took the “hand of angels” as they escorted her to paradise.
This picture of mom’s hands wouldn’t get her a job as a “hand model,” but don’t let that fool you. Those hands are beautiful!
That is one of the sweetest, kindest compliments a mother could receive.
Steve, that was beautiful! My mom had those same “kind” of hands. I am older than you, by far, but I still miss my mom’s hands. I used to call her every day and I still miss her every day. Mom’s are special!!