Doc Meek

Grandma, some ninety plus years,  sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn’t move, just sat  with her head down staring at her hands.

When I sat  down beside her she didn’t acknowledge my presence and the  longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not  really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at  the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her  head and looked at me and smiled. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you  for asking,’ she said in a clear voice strong..

‘I  didn’t mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just  sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure  you were OK,’ I explained to her.

‘Have you ever  looked at your hands,’ she asked. ‘I mean really looked at  your hands?’

I slowly opened my hands and stared  down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms  down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I  tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

‘Stop  and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they  have served you well throughout your years. These hands,  though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I  have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace  life.

They braced and caught my fall when as a  toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my  mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught  me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on  my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he  went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and  raw , swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I  tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band  they showed the world that I was married and loved someone  special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled  and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

‘They  have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors,  and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and  washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been  sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this  day when not much of anything else of me works real well,  these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to  fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where  I’ve been and the ruggedness of life.

But more  importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out  and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will  lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to  touch the face of God.

I will never look at my hands  the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my  grandma’s hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or  sore or when  I stroke the face of my children  and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked  and caressed and held by the hands of God.

I, too,  want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my  face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the  person who sent it to you, and watch God’s answer to prayer  work in your life. Let’s continue praying for one another…

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Thank you Grandma! And thank you, women of the world!

Doc Meek, Monday, September 6, 2010, at Sherwood Park, Alberta, CANADA

J. Collins Meek, Ph.D. (Doc Meek)
“What if you are smarter than you think?”
Learning Specialist https://docmeek.com

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