Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Today, as I put make up on my face in preparation for my cardiology appointment, I looked at my hands. Really looked at my hands. The first thing I saw was how much they look like my mother's hands. The shape of the fingers. The way the nails are colored. Then I looked again and realized how much my hands have done for me and given to others and forged my career, my life's work. I saw them caressing a lover, a husband. I saw them cradle and soothe my sons. I saw them lovingly plant a garden and move through household chores. They pet cats and dogs and any animal that would hold still long enough to be petted. They drew and painted and knitted and beaded and used saws and tools to make wooden furniture. They continued to use smaller saws to make jewelry. They tried to make my face beautiful and my legs smooth. Such busy hands that keep moving through my day, through my life, through my work. I love them as much as I need them. The blessing in this story is looking at something we see and use all the time through the eyes of wisdom, age and timelessness as my hands will carry on through the next generation.