First of all, I would like to thank athingirldotcom for her post yesterday. She had a phrase in her post that prompted a memory that I wanted to write about hands. So, thank you Susannah!
I have always looked at hands. As far as I can remember I notice people’s hands. I love to see what they look like. Are they perfectly manicured? Are they calloused? Chubby hands or tiny hands? I am fascinated by hands. To me, they show the person’s personality.
I know I have always noticed hands. I became very aware of how much I looked at hands several years ago. Hubby and I had been invited to a fund-raising dinner for a ministry. We were in San Diego and the dinner was held at the Hotel Del Coronado. It was our first experience at the Del. It’s a beautifully historic hotel and is one of our favorite places to visit and roam around.
Anyhow, the table we were seated had hubby and I, our friends who invited us and another couple. This couple was older and very sweet. There was a prayer before dinner and we were instructed to hold hands to pray for the evening meal. My right hand was in hubby’s hand. His hand is large and strong. My entire hand fits into the palm of his. I can never hold his hand when we walk, I can only grasp onto his first couple of fingers.
My left hand gently held onto the older woman’s hands. When the prayer was finished, she leaned over to me and apologized for her hand. She said it was not soft and manicured as mine was. I looked at her and placed her hand in both of mine. With all honesty, I looked at her and said, ‘Mam, these hands are hands that have loved deeply. They are worn from years of working for those you love. I am certain these hands have scrubbed floors and walls and children. I think your hands are lovely. I hope that someday my hands will look the same.” I didn’t think anything of this conversation, because I knew I was being honest. She grabbed my hands and with tears in her eyes she thanked me.
Over the years I have thought about that exchange. I wonder what happened with that woman. I am certain she is no longer with us. But, I have always remembered her.
A few months ago, hubby was sitting beside me and looked down and gently picked up my hand. He simply said, “your poor little hands.” He then lifted my hand to his lips and kissed them.
I asked what was wrong with my hands and he answered that they looked sore. They were in fact very sore. They ached, which they tend to do often anymore. But, I sat and looked at my hands. They looked familiar to me. They looked like that woman’s hands did years ago. They don’t get manicured often anymore. I just don’t take the time for that. But, these hands have loved and worked and been there to do what is needed.
I have the answer to that prayer I had long ago. My hands look old and worn. But, I am proud of what we have accomplished through the years.
Yes, people notice eyes, or ears or rear ends. I can talk to someone for hours and never tell you what color their eyes are, but, I can tell you what kind of hands they have. What do you notice about people?
Thanks for stopping by, DAF