These Hands: A Story of Gratitude

I’ve spent a lot more time taking care of my face than I ever did my hands. My hands? I barely gave them a thought. And now they show it: wrinkles, veins, sunspots and, lately, the unmistakable signature of arthritis.

For a long time, I looked at my hands and saw age. Now I’m beginning to see the signatures of a life lived.

These hands have held my babies. When my son Barrick was almost a year old, he began choking on a small object. He turned blue and stopped breathing.

While talking to 911, these hands cleared his airway and performed chest compressions. These hands saved his life – and then held him close.

They’ve applauded my daughters through the years – at Lindsey’s dance recitals and Lauren’s many performances on stage. They’ve clapped through graduations, held bouquets and tissues at weddings, waved from audiences, squeezed hands in proud moments, and reached out in countless celebrations of life.

And because music has always been part of my life, these hands have applauded Broadway shows, symphonies, concerts and performances in theaters and concert halls – simply for the joy of being there and hearing the music.

They held my grandmother’s hand before she passed from this life. I still reach for my ninety-year-old mother’s hand, and now hold my grandson close and turn the pages of the books I read to him.

They’ve hugged, comforted, wiped away tears and blood from childhood scrapes, blown kisses and encouraged others. They’ve even pulled out splinters – and more than a few prickly pieces of jumping cholla cactus during our Arizona years.

They’ve cooked meals, washed dishes and done countless loads of laundry. They’ve planted gardens, decorated homes, packed and moved more boxes than I could ever count, paid bills and carried groceries – although I draw the line at the really heavy Costco stuff!

They’ve collected seashells and heart-shaped rocks along the shore, pine cones in the mountains, and stones from desert trails – small treasures gathered from the places that have shaped my life.

They’ve held countless books that have taught me, challenged me and carried me away. They’ve written stories, reflections, letters, cards and words of encouragement. They’ve lifted weights to keep me strong and carried me across a marathon finish line.

They’ve folded quietly in prayer, prayed with and over others, anointed people with oil, and lifted high in worship and praise.

And yes, I was once told I could never be a hand model. Ha! Well, there goes that career!

This November, I’m looking at these hands differently – with gratitude for all they have held, carried, created and given. Maybe gratitude asks us to look again at the ordinary parts of our lives – even the things we once wished were different

– and recognize the stories and gifts they carry.

These hands have held my life.

And today, I hold these hands with gratitude. They don’t just show my age. They show my life.

Your Legacy Moment

As you enter this season of gratitude, what is something about yourself or your life that you once saw as a negative – but might look different if you viewed it through the lens of gratitude?