These Hands

I recently read a fellow brain injury survivor’s blog post. In her article she mentioned her deceased mother-in-law’s hands. The daughter-in-law thought they were beautiful, although the lady would have disagreed. They were gnarled from arthritis and scars, but the daughter-in-law saw something else. She saw how capable those hands had always been, and how loving. A touch or a caress from those hands would impart comfort. It got me thinking. I have always had a thing for hands. I like to observe them, photograph them, appreciate them.

Did you know there are 1466 references to hand in the Bible, and 462 mentions of hands? That suggests to me that God believes hands are pretty meaningful. Offhand (that’s pun-ny), I remember that God speaks of hands blessing, cursing, or in a posture of prayer. God says each of us is carved in the palm of his hand. He stretches his hand toward us for healing, blessing, guidance… I started looking for a poem I wrote about hands in 2009. At the time my daughter worked in a nursing home as director of social work. She was planning to photograph the hands of the residents. (the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree). I was excited at this prospect and set out to help her find the perfect verse to go with each photograph.. At the time we couldn’t find an appropriate poem to print with the photos, so I was inspired to write this poem:

These Hands

  These hands tell the story of a life lived well

 Once small and soft they reached up to be held                

 They grew strong, yet tender and reached out for a lover                       

 They tossed laughing babies into the air, then pressed them to hearts filled with love

 They encountered sadness, wrung sometimes with worry and folded in prayer

 They opened wide to embrace, wiped away tears and clapped with joy

 When this right hand clasped yours a deal was sealed, a promise made.

 No longer smooth and nimble, these hands carry few regrets

 These hands tell the story of a life lived well. 

 By Debra Gorman