An old man, 90 plus years old, sat feebly on the park bench. He did not move, just sat there with his head down, staring at his hands.
Another man sat down beside him but the first man did not acknowledge his presence, and the longer he sat the more he wondered if the old man was okay.
He finally said to the old man, “ I do not mean to disturb you but the way you are just sitting there staring at your hands, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
The old man raised his head and looked at him and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he said in a clear strong voice.
The old man then asked the second, “Have you ever looked at your hands? I mean really looked at them…”
At that the other slowly opened his hands and stared down at them, turned them over, palms up and down. “No,” he said, “I have never really looked at my hands…” he replied as he tried to figure out the point the was making.
The old man smiled and related this story:
Stop and think about the hands you have, and how they have served you well throughout your years. My hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak, have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my falls when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life… They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bloody. They were uneasy and clumsy when I held my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.
Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off my best friend’s foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors; and shook in fists of anger when I did not understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down and continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home.. And He won’t care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What He will care about is to whom these hands belong and how much He loves these hands. And with these hands He will life me to His side and then I will use these hands to touch the face of God.
Isn’t this story touching and beautiful. Now I entreat all of you who are reading this to stop, pause and look at your hands, and at the things they have done for you during your life. If you are a young person, look at your hands and think about all the wonderful things that your hands will do in the future.
Fold your hands in prayer and take a moment to thank God for your hands and for everything that He has done with your hands and will do with your hands. God bless our hands!
The author of the TOTJO simple and solemn oath, the liturgy book, holy days, the FAQ and the Canon Law. Ordinant of GM Mark and Master Jestor.
