Hands

Last week I took my mother to the hospital for an outpatient test. While we were waiting, I poured some lotion into my hand and realized I had poured too much. I asked my mother if she wanted some and she said yes. I reached for her hands and rubbed them with the excess lotion on my own. It was a sweet moment. Those 83 year old hands had served her family for many years. My heart warmed as I caressed them.

While I was in Kenya, we did a seminar for the ladies. Because of the rustic conditions, there was little opportunity to do any of the feminine activities associated with those type of events in America. What we could do was massage their hands with lotion and polished their nails as they arrived. These ladies were much younger than my mother and even younger than myself, but their hands told of their hard work. I hope it felt good to them. It was nice to see them smile with appreciation and it blessed me to actively "love" the hands that had worked so hard to serve their families.

I like looking at hands. Baby hands, feminine hands, man hands, elderly hands. You can tell so much about a person by looking at their hands and even more by touching their hands.

But the hands I long to see and touch are the hands of Jesus. Those are the hands that have served willingly, loved perfectly, and sacrificed completely. Those are the hands that reached out for me even though I never deserved Him. (Romans 5:8) Even now, the thoughts of His nail scared hands bring tears to my eyes. I pray I never get over the awe of His love for me.

I will not forget you! 

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands

Isaiah 49:15b-16a (NIV)