Recently a friend said to me, "I love your hands." My first reaction was to laugh, (my hands have always been unattractive to me. I saw them as, crooked knuckles, calluses, and dry cuticles), yet when I heard the sincerity in this person's voice, instead of saying thank you, I asked, "Why?" The response caught me off guard. "If you consider what your hands have done over the years, they are beautiful storytelling hands."
Wow, these words came at a time of caring for two sick parents, along with personal changes that made me question if all that I have done throughout the years really mattered. Did life slip by so quickly that the little things about me went unnoticed? But hearing that someone saw me through my beautiful storytelling hands, made me realize what I gave throughout the years did matter and still does. The words touched me like a hug of understanding and encouragement. My hands are looking and feeling different as I grow older, they ache...yet like our hearts, they feel better when they are held.
"Beautiful storytelling hands," says it all! What we do with our hands, pours from our hearts. It's giving of one's self, without words. A reflection of the unconditional love we carry for those around us.
Mother's Day is a sweet time to remember what our mother's hands have done for us, gestures of love that overflowed from her heart. Even if your mom has passed away, her touch is still felt by the memories she created through her beautiful storytelling hands. From the moment a mother touches her newborn baby, the storytelling begins and never ends, even after her last breath. She leaves behind an imprint.
The constant care that mothers pour into those around them can often leave them without time for themselves. On occasions, a mother needs time to rest, to absorb the life she created, to feel grateful, to be missed, to feel needed... to feel loved.
I'm certain most moms have used their hands to wipe many tears from their child's eyes, as well as their own, while they watch their children become more independent.
As a mother, I have experienced that feeling and I tried to express it in my book, I Called Her Nan. With my hands, the words were originally written on paper, then typed into chapters. My hands expressed the overflow from my heart of who I am, how God uniquely designed me...and how He blessed me with an opportunity to help others, even while I'm still growing.
I've learned to see my beautiful storytelling hands differently. As a nurse for almost forty years, I look back at my work and now understand the power of touch more clearly. I treasure the photos of family and friends that my hands have taken throughout the years. When I hold my grandchildren and touch their soft skin, I savor every moment a while longer. I recall my own mom's hands caring for me, and now my hands care for her. I can still feel my boys' hands in mine... they leave behind an imprint each time I feel their touch.
These days, I fold my hands in prayer more often and give thanks, as God extends His beautiful storytelling hands ..to hold me.
~Love, Cathy
Feel free to share a memory of your own mother's, Beautiful Storytelling Hands in the comments.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
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