Mark's grandma lives in an assisted living home near us. Samantha and I are regular visitors there. My grandmother passed away a little more than a year ago. I miss her. Maybe that is why I am so drawn to visit Grandma Sanders.
Yesterday we stopped by to say hello. Grandma was busily working on a puzzle. I held Sami with one hand and helped assemble puzzle pieces with the other. Grandma would hand pieces to me and Samantha to try on our side. It was then that I noticed our hands.
Samantha's hands, so tiny and soft. Her little fingers barely able to grasp the pieces. Her hands are still new to the world. She is just discovering that they are good for a few things like shaking a rattle or putting a couple of fingers in her mouth when she gets hungry. Those precious little hands have so many adventures ahead.
I then looked at my own hands. I have never liked them much. They have always looked older than they should. Somehow though, they looked a little different to me. Maybe for the first time in my 38 years, I appreciated the way they have served me. My hands have held the hands of a wonderful man who shares my life. They have nurtured and cared for my three joys. They have cleaned the house, pulled the weeds and folded the laundry. They have made hundreds of meals and done hundreds of dishes. They have clapped at little league games and wiped the tears away at dance recitals.
Next, I studied Grandma's hands. Her fingers, bent and weathered and yet somehow, she had the most beautiful hands of all. A lump formed in my throat and tears in my eyes as I imagined those hands, once small like Samantha's. How quickly the years pass and how her hands have evolved.
Grandma's hands have worked hard her entire life. She raised five sons and a daughter and now they all have children and grandchildren. How many skinned knees those hands have bandaged, how many story books they have held, how many birthday cards written and faithfully sent, how many cookies, popcorn balls, pies and rolls they lovingly made.
She had a garden like no one I know. Those sweet hands have grown most every kind of fruit and vegetable and then turned them into jams, juices, salsas and bottled goods. Although Grandma didn't have a fancy house, it was always clean and polished. The cookie jar usually full. For weddings and new babies a hand made quilt given. Can you imagine all the stitches?
Grandma has lived a life of service to others. She took care of her mother, her uncle, her sister in law and her brother in law. She set aside her own life as she lovingly took them into her home. When Grandpa became sick, she took care of him too. I remember seeing her hands gently wash and then curl Aunt Gladys' hair. More than once we walked in on Grandma giving Grandpa a haircut.
Grandma's hands are my example. They have spent over 90 years doing good and blessing the lives of others. Grandma's life is winding down. Her hands are slower than they used to be. One day, God will reach down and take her by the hand and lead her home.
Until that day comes, I am learning from Grandma. Being around her is good for my spirit. I smile at the way she takes Samantha's hand in her's and says. "This is the cutest baby boy I've ever seen!" and how she always finds a piece of candy to send home with us.
I hope that someday my hands will be old and worn out from loving, serving, and working hard. In short, a life well lived.
