by Rev. Susanna
I catch a glimpse of my hands. They are 56 year-old hands, and unlike a lot of the rest of my body, they look it.
Often I am shocked and somewhat repulsed at the sight of them. “They are an old lady’s hands, not mine! They are wrinkled and old!” But today, as the light of morning illuminates the large blue veins, and the loose skin settles into folds and wrinkles, I see strength. These are hands that have worked hard, healed, and created. They have earned their wear. Their beauty now lies in their qualities of function, not of aesthetics. They are strong, beautiful. They have lost the ideal of youthful softness so valued in our society, but they have acquired a deeper beauty. One can trust these hands. They will hold you with strength and competence. They will heal you with wisdom, and offer help and comfort.
They are sure and strong and wise when I dig in my gardens and tend to my plant babies. They are calming and capable when I steady my dog and remove a tick. They are knowing beyond book knowledge when they touch and help heal a client in pain. They are giving and can be relied upon when they grasp a patient’s hands in the hospital.
What gorgeous hands! Could I ever want to trade them for soft, white, supple ones? I am so grateful for the gift of these exquisite hands!
