Hands of Time

Hands can tell a wonderful story. The hands of a newborn baby are soft, delicate, innocent, unadulterated by the sands of time. A few years pass and those tiny fingers grow to be chunky little fingers covered with marker ink and dirt. Time marches of and the hands continue to grow; now perhaps adorned with a wedding band and fewer delicate curves. As the clock continues to tick, the lines become more defined, the hands even less delicate but if you look closely more beautiful. More beautiful how? Each of the lines in those scarred, weathered hands poignantly pipes in during the telling of a life-story. All too often people look on the eldest folks in our community and see only ugliness, failing to see the many years of experience, work and love that are contained in the weathered hands of the person. As you go about your daily tasks this week, take a moment to look at your hands and see what story they tell. When you notice an older individual while you are out, look closely at his hands and if you have a moment ask him to tell you a little of the story behind those beautiful lines.