Unusual Channel
With these hands
This article I read from one of my brother's emails clearly reminds me of how ungrateful and unappreciative I am to God for making me the person I am right now. I had my bumps and bruises but I guess it was part of His Great Plan. This article touched me in a way I have never experienced before. It was one realization that after reading it I said to myself, "Ay oo nga, jeez, how can I be so ungrateful for all of these!" (Looking down at my hands)
And so, my dear friends, I am sure you have read this email before because it's a forwarded message after all, however, I must ask you if it had an effect on you. If not then perhaps this time it will have so read on and ponder on... by the way, the title I chose for this article is one of my father's favorite songs.
Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him, but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking", he said in a clear strong voice "I didn't mean to disturb you, grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK", I explained to him. "Have you ever looked at your hands he asked, I mean really looked at your hands?" I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story: "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These 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 fall 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 held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the 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 of my best friend's foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't 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 again 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 with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ". I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandpa's hands and led him home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face.
I must admit that God must be smiling wherever He is right now and when He hears the same thing from you it will be music to His ears for you have been grateful for your hands, feet, and senses which are sometimes taken for granted until they cannot be used. These are little things, insignificant we may see it sometimes but come to think of it, it becomes bigger once we recognize how important it is in our lives and especially to the one who created it. And for that Dear God, we thank You for creating us in a beautiful way.
"When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree."
(For comments please email me at rbuy1028@gmail.com)