Tuesday, November 27, 2012


I am thankful for my hands.
I was checking them out this morning, and was appalled to find adhesive spray 
from yesterday's projects still on them.
They are scarred from cuts, burns, and the latest allergic reaction to who knows what.
They're wrinkled way beyond my almost forty-seven years.

My hands are probably the most essential tool used to bless my family.
I like to keep them busy.
If I'm riding in the car or listening to something, they must be moving.

They fold laundry, clean toilets, prepare meals,
pat backs, and make useful things.

There is a verse in Proverbs 31 that talks about how the
excellent woman works with her hands in delight.
I can't help but smile when I read it because I get that.

Not long after my last child was born I discovered that any fine
motor motion with my hands brought pain.
I saw doctors,  wore a cast for a couple of months to rest the nerve,
took all sorts of medications,
and hunted all over the South looking for a solution to the problem.
I even had surgery which wasn't any help.

Really, the only thing that helps is moderation.
A little here, and a little there.
No hand-smocking, very little writing at one time,
and being careful with anything repetitive that needs a lot of finger movement.
Things like rubbing backs, folding a hundred tissue paper balls for a daughter's wedding,
or hand-hand sewing needs to be done a little at a time.
Even folding laundry needs to be done a load at a time.
And that's okay.

Sometimes it seems like a thorn in my flesh,
but I will always find ways to keep these wrinkly scarred hands busy!

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