Old Hands

OLD HANDS

When my son was little, we were at church one day and he said, "Mom, Bro. Port is really old."  I asked him, "Why do you say that?"  And he replied, "Because he has old hands."

I stopped for a moment to consider this brother's hands.  They were wrinkled, and his fingers were a little twisted.  His hands were weathered, with some age spots.  I looked down at my own hands.  They were smooth, creamy... young.  I thought about the difference in our ages, lives, experiences.  He might have had "old hands" but they were kind, and the wisdom he had was something to seek after.  I hoped that one day when I had old hands that I might have a quarter of that wisdom.

When my dad was still alive, I noticed his hands many times after that instance. His hands were tanned, strong, steady, and kind.  As the years passed, I noticed the age spots begin to creep in.  As Dad got sick, I noticed the tanned hands were pale.  The strong hands were weak.  The steady hands were shaking.  But they were always kind and that wisdom... he had it.  Again, something to strive for in my life.

I posted a picture on Facebook tonight.  I wasn't happy to discover that my hands have age spots on them.  I considered them and I thought, "They are tan.  They are strong.  They are steady.  But are they kind?  Do I have wisdom?"

I'm going to try to be happy with my "old hands".  If they get pale, okay.  If they get weak, alright.  If they get shaky, so be it.  I'm going to worry about the important things instead.  I'm going to strive for kindness, and for wisdom. I think we need more of both in this world.

It Didn’t Go As Planned… And That’s Okay!

I had an epiphany the other day...



I have no idea if I can put my thoughts into words.



When I was 11, my brother and my sister both got married within two weeks of each other.  For me, the only child left at home, life changed drastically.  We went from a family of 5 at home, to a family of 3.  Change brought many differences in our lifestyle.  We ate out a lot more, did more "fun" things, traveled more, etc.



I\"m not exactly sure why, but all of those changes, differences, made me forget what life had been like before.  As an adult, I can barely remember "family" life with my brother and sister at home.  I can\"t remember ever sitting around a table eating supper together.  I can\"t remember playing outside with them.  I can\"t remember doing ANY family things together.  I remember individual events.  I remember time spent with them, individually, but the actual family memories are gone.  I\"ve often wondered if it was some kind of self-preservation... maybe a way of protecting my feelings when they moved on.



8 years ago, I had another life-altering experience.  I became a single (divorced) woman again.  Life completely changed, in the blink of an eye.  Suddenly, I had to figure things out on my own.  I had to go back to work.  I had to figure out how to raise my kids.  I went from having over 2000 visitors a year to 10.  There were many, many changes.   As time went on, something very similar happened to me, like it did when I was a kid.  I forgot.  I honestly could not remember so much of what "life" was like when I was married.  I remember tons of events and experiences, but general life is hard to remember.  One day, I realized that I couldn\"t even think of one snack my ex had liked to eat.  How odd that I\"d forget something like that after 17 years of marriage.  Was it again a form of self-preservation?



About a year ago, I found our old home movies, but realized I had nothing to play them on, as our Mini DV camcorder had disappeared.  I tried to buy some kind of adapter, but they just aren\"t out there for my kind of camera.  I couldn\"t afford to have the cassettes put onto a DVD at that point, so I just kind of forgot about it for the time being.



A couple of weeks ago, my foot kicked something under my bed.  Now, first let me say that I don\"t keep hardly anything under the beds.  I have 4 paintings and a wedding dress under mine.  But that day... there was something else.  My video camera!  I have no explanation as to how it got there except to say, "God gave it back to me."  I began to watch videos...



I saw family Christmases, birthdays, fun times.  I got to see my Daddy again.  I watched my little kids as they grew, year to year.  I saw us fishing, climbing trees, playing in the snow.  I saw tickles and laughs and hugs.  I saw a FAMILY.  After all this time, I remembered the good times.  I remembered that things weren\"t always bad...  that they were good for a lot of years.  And that made me happy.



I realize now that satan, once again, was a thief.  He stole my memories from me. He made me feel like an idiot... like I\"d been deceived by lies for 17 years and that I\"d never had a happy home.  Like it was wasted time and I had nothing good to show for it.  But you know what?  He was WRONG.



Different isn\"t bad.  Life is a beautiful thing, and I shouldn\"t be so afraid of change.  God can take the ugliest things and bring beauty from the ashes.  I\"m a better person today for the things I\"ve been through.  I hope I can learn this lesson as I move forward in life. I want to embrace change and never, ever forget.  But I also want to never be afraid to remember.