Beautiful Hands
Long
slender fingers, strong nails to grow out and paint… Truthfully, I get a lot of compliments on my
hands. They’d be perfect for
piano-playing. Too bad I only play
guitar. I could use my hands to model
for Palmolive dish soap or Sally Hansen nail products or Barons jewelry
advertisements and commercials, I so often hear. I’ve also heard numerous times that when my
nails are painted, they look like acrylic nails, they’re too perfect.
Last
Saturday, I dolled completely up for church the next morning and painted my
nails for the first time in quite a while.
As I was lying in bed that night, I admired my canary-yellow painted
nails, remembering how my parents had gone on about them again, marveling over
how beautiful they thought my hands were.
But what makes hands beautiful? I asked myself. Was it small, dainty hands and perfectly-painted
nails or was it something more?
I
thought of my mom’s hands in contrast to my own. She rarely paints her nails, for it would
hardly be worth the time with how quickly they would chip when she washes
dishes. In the winter, her hands are in
water so often doing chores around the house that she has to faithfully cream
them or they crack from dryness. She can
never grow her nails long without them breaking. But I also thought of all that her hands do
and have done over the years…
Cooking
to feed her family’s stomachs, cleaning her home so her family can live in a
comfortable and healthy environment, driving to the grocery store every other
day, rocking little infants to sleep every night, changing diapers, bathing
little bodies, spooning mashed food into eager little mouths, wiping off dirty
clothes and bibs, mopping up spills, pulling little socks over tiny toes,
brushing a long full ponytail every day and working it into a blond braid every
night, playing Polly Pockets between making dinner, taking up a pen and
teaching math problems and sentence diagramming, pulling the covers up over
little chests at night, altering clothes as her little girls’ bodies began to
change, opening the pages of her Bible as the source of her wisdom, giving hugs
and taking smiling faces in her hands, drying tears during life’s transitions,
tapping out text messages on her phone screen to bridge the gap of distance and
keep her family together…
And
all that her hands will someday do…
Smooth
down her baby’s curls right before her first date, crown her baby’s hair with a
veil on her wedding day, feel the movements of a growing baby bump, rock little
grandbabies to sleep, change more diapers, bath more little bodies, feed more
little stomachs, play more Barbies, braid more ponytails and brush more
bedheads, cuddle more little ones, dry more tears, give more hugs, crochet more
baby blankets, sew more quilts, type more text messages, write more letters,
send more cards, give more and more love through the years… and never stop.
As I
reflect on all that my mom has done for my sisters and I and all of the
beautiful moments the future holds, the love in my heart overflows into tears
of gratitude. And it pains me to realize
more with each passing day that I won’t be here at her side forever and that
someday, should God call me forth with my own family, I might be the recipient
of those cards and letters and emails and texts that will seem to lessen the
distance of miles between our hearts.
That will keep our lives still connected, our hearts still tied, that
will allow her grandchildren to get to know her and allow her to enjoy them. As the saying goes, life takes us to
unexpected places, but love brings us home.
Writing
birthday cards, lovingly wrapping presents, studying new pictures, posting
Crayola masterpieces on the refrigerator, preparing the cozy home for Christmas
visitors, reaching for the handle of the front door at the sound of the
doorbell, enveloping her baby in a real- not virtual- hug, and still spreading
more and more love around. And in my
opinion, that’s what makes hands beautiful.
My
mom’s hands may never pass on a Palmolive advertisement. Her nails may never be painted often, and she
may forever have to carry her hand cream around with her. But to me, her hands are more beautiful than
even the most prim and perfectly-manicured delicate hands. Because they’re hands of service. Of sacrifice.
Of love and tender care.
So I
study my own hands again. Manicured
canary-yellow nails, long slender fingers, small soft hands… they look like
they haven’t seen a day of honest labor in their time. But true beauty isn’t seen in
appearance. Someday when I have my own
family and my own home to keep, perhaps my hands will begin to look much like
my mother’s… and growing more beautiful all the time. I inherited my hands from my father’s side,
but I pray that someday I’ll bear even just a little resemblance to my mother’s
beautiful hands.
Today
is Mother’s Day, readers. Yes, it’s been
a full year already since my first Mother’s Day tribute post A Mother’s Love
in last May. As we celebrate mothers
and motherhood, take the time to reflect on all of the sacrifices the mothers
in your life- your mother, your mother-in-law, your stepmother, mothers
you know- have made and the impact they’ve had upon your life. And thank them for it. To all mothers and mothers-to-be everywhere…
thank you for all that you do! You are
loved and appreciated more than those around you sometimes take the time and
effort to express. You are a blessing!
And
to my own mom, that very special woman in my life… Thank you from the bottom of my heart for
being amazing you, the incredible mom that you are and grandmother that I know
you’re going to be. Thank you for your
life of service and sacrifice over the years and for being the understanding
and supportive mom that you are in my life even now. I love you more than I could ever express in
words or actions even, but by this post and by every day I live, I hope to show
you somehow, someway, just how much you mean to me. Thank you for daily being a wonderful example
to me of a godly wife and mother, of a Proverbs 31 woman. I pray that someday I’ll be at least half as
good of a woman as you are and that God will grant me even just a portion of
your wisdom and discernment. The older I
get, the more I realize how blessed I am to have you as my mom, how much you do
for our family, and how wise you really are.
I love you, Momma. Thank you for
your influence in my life. You’re a
blessing to me and all who know you. And
I still claim my boast last year as the entire truth: you truly are the BEST mom in the whole
world.
“A
wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days
of her life. She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands. She is like
the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. She gets up while it is still dark; she
provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls. She considers a field and buys it; out of her
earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets
about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her trading is profitable, and
her lamp does not go out at night. In
her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle in her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends
her hands to the needy. When it snows,
she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She makes coverings for her bed; she is
clothed in fine linen and purple. Her
husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders
of the land. She makes linen garments
and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she
can laugh at the days to come. She
speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he
praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let
her works bring her praise at the city gate.” Proverbs 31:10-31
~We’ve all heard of the phrase “pulling on her/ his heartstrings,”
but heart-chords? I was struggling to
decide what to name my blog. I wanted it
to be a name that was both creative and meaningful. As I pondered, my gaze fell upon my acoustic
guitar where it stands in my bedroom, and the Lord reminded me that our hearts-
our lives- are instruments. They are
constantly in song, but what melody our heart plays is each of our own
decisions. They can play a melody for
praise or for entertainment. A musician
selects his songs according to his audience.
So do we. Whether our audience is
the world or the Lord, our song will be different. This blog is designed to first, increase my
awareness in finding God and His guidance in my every day and second, to share
the music lessons He teaches me in tuning my heart to learn the chords of
praise He longs to play on my heart-instrument.
Music is a powerful tool. Use it
for His glory. “He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of
praise to our God. Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the Lord.” Psalm 40:3
...you have me crying at work! beautiful post
ReplyDeleteHaha! And I was crying while writing it! :) Thank you!
ReplyDelete