Worn Hands

While spending the last day of the week watching Jocelyn in preschool, I glanced down at my hands. Lately my hands have felt tight, worn and dry. When I got to looking at them I thought to myself "wow, my hands look gross and super old!!"

The skin on my hands look scaly, scarred, calloused, torn and rough, fingernails various lengths and chipped, cuticles extremely unkempt and a fair amount of wrinkles. Plesant huh?

Wrinkles on my hands? At only 30? What the heck!! Are liverspots around the corner too?

How did my hands become so ugly?

As soon as that thought entered my head, the remaining thoughts followed...

I'm thankful that I even have hands!

Without my hands, I wouldn't be able to blow kisses --

Without my hands, I wouldn't be able to feel the scaliness of a snake or the uniqueness of a Kolas fur --

Without my hands, I would never be able to steer a bike --

Without my hands, I wouldn't be able to interlace fingers with my husband, wrestle and cling to him --

Without my hands, I wouldn't have been able to grab and hold Jocelyn for the very first time --

Without my hands, I wouldn't have been able to touch her precious, teeny-tiny angelic feet --

I'm thankful that my hands...

...function normally -- I can grasp, pinch, release, swipe and wiggle
...that they work both consciously and unconsciously -- and work well they do
...that I can shake hands with someone
...that I can carry in groceries from the car
...that they can feel warmth and coolness
...that they can distinguish between our daughters silky curls and delicate skin
...that they allow me to be independent
...that they are unique and special -- no one has the same pair
...that I can cook for my family, clean house and create things
...that I can write and type which gives me freedom of expression
...that I'm able use and teach sign language
...that I'm able to nurture, touch and soothe
...that I can feed myself
...that I'm able to scratch something itchy (haha that just sounds funny but true!)

This got me to thinking though, here I am whining in my head about my dried out, not so elegant fingers and nails, when in reality, because I have hands (whether they are "pretty" or not) my life is easier ... better.

Sometimes changing a negative thought into a positive one, can change your whole outlook on things.

Who cares if my hands look "older" or more "worn" than I think they should. In reality, now that I think about it, I would love at the end of my life, that my hands would tell a story all their own. A story of a mother, wife and friend -- one who labored and loved, one who wasn't afraid to get down and dirty, who knew what hard work was, that had both a stern and gentle touch ... yea, that's what I would want!

Hands aren't intended to be flawless -- they are for doing and living -- so my final thought as I looked at my hands?

I must be doing something right! :)