Hands tell us so much

I loved to study my father's hands. They were unlike any other hands I have ever seen. They were covered with freckles and they were cracked from the work he did and most of the times they were stained. The grease and oil from the garage was ground into the cracks of his skin and for many years, they were stained yellow from his tobacco usage. I feared those hands when I misbehaved as a child, but as I matured, I was fascinated by his ability to turn a wrench in the most awkward of places. He loved to work wood and in his later years, he often stood in sawdust as his hands fashioned frames and toys from the wood.

This last year, Betty and I have had a rare opportunity. We have been learning to talk to a dear friend, Mattie, who is hearing impaired. Her hands gracefully move as she forms the words and thoughts she wants to convey. She has been patient with us as she has helped us learn how to form words, and phrases and sentences. We have learned to say simple prayers and express affection.

In church, we watch as the talks and hymns are interpreted from vocal expressions to graceful poetic manual ballet. We can't understand it all, but slowly we are beginning to learn. We don't have to understand every word to appreciate sign language. We do understand enough to get the general idea.

Another pair of hands that I love to watch are my sweetheart's. They are beautiful to me. I see her use her hands as she creates beautiful cards for friends on special occasions. I watch as she does the many things around our home and am grateful for the things she does. Her hands are dainty, but are beginning to show signs of aging. Her wedding rings no longer fit comfortably over her arthritic knuckles, and they don't open jars as easily as once they did. Her hands tell me that she loves me by the things that she does.

What I do with my hands also relays a message to those I love. I make a living for our family with my hands and there are times that they ache from over use, yet I feel a need to continue to use them to express the feelings of my heart. I love my family and find that I can use my hands to tell them so. I can also use my hands help Betty with her household chores, or I can while my time away putzing around on the Internet. I need to be careful about how I use my hands and how I use my time.

I went through my pictures looking images of people's hands. I believe that the ones that said the most to me were the one of Larry and Jeanette's hands when they were married, and this one. These are the hands of my Mother and my Father. Their hands in this photo symbolize unity and love and caring. I pray that I can keep my hands busy, keep them clean, and keep them ready to serve my family for the rest of my days. I hope that my hands will tell my loved ones the things that I would want them to say.