The Hands God Gave Me

These are the hands that God gave me. I have to admit that I haven't always been to pleased with them. For a girl who truly appreciates form, grace and beauty, I always felt like I was a bit short changed in that department. My hands are kind of short and stubby, with wide palms and pathetic nails. Of course now we have added age spots and scars to further add insult to injury. When I was a young girl, I remember often noticing my mother's hands  and telling her how beautiful I thought they were. She had long thin hands with beautiful nails and enjoyed wearing sparkly jewelry that showed them off.  As I grew I began to notice other girls hands, they all seemed prettier than mine and I began to find ways to camouflage mine. For instance in the teen years, I liked to wear my sleeves long, hanging to the point where they almost covered my hands and thereby, in my mind that is, making my hands appear smaller and more delicate. Also, as my friends began the years of beautifying themselves, with manicures and pretty rings and jewelry, I found I had nails that wouldn't grow and bracelets and rings brought attention to a part of me I felt was unacceptable. It's amazing how a little thing like this can just be another way you fill up your inner self with more proof that you are just not adequate. Of course, we who are blessed, mature past this point. We learn to value what has lasting value and leave behind, as best we can, the images the world give us of perfection. I learned to appreciate the incredible marvel of what hands are and can do, and reminded myself that having hands at all is a gift, something not everyone has. These are the hands that God gave me. They have stroked heads of old and young alike, they have prepared nourishing food for my family, they have held hands of children, husband, friends, grandchildren and parents, they have folded themselves in prayer, they have cooled feverish heads, washed dirty clothes, changed poopy pants, cleaned houses, dug in dirt, planted flowers,made clothing, sewn , knitted, played piano, raised themselves in praise, wiped tears, massaged hurting muscles, written encouragement and on and on I could go. Today, these hands clipped and filed the toenails of my father and massaged his very swollen feet and calves. While my hands massaged I prayed blessing and healing to this man I love. He can't do that for himself anymore, and I consider it all joy to be able to do this for him now. He has been such a wonderful father.
Oh young ones out there, do you have something you hate about yourself? Do not trouble yourself any longer. If you co-operate, He( our heavenly father) truly does make all things beautiful in His time. These are the hands that God gave me, they are beautiful, they are mine, and I wouldn't trade them.