Marty & Mindy

Hands

Written By: Mindy - Apr• 06•12


Hands…

Recently Marty and I were walking hand in hand on Balboa Island, CA. As we passed by a group of photographers they asked if they could take our picture. We smiled and said yes.

We talked story and laughed with them. One began to share her dreams with us. And before you knew it – we were holding hands & praying together.  It was divine.

As we parted ways we all agreed we would have dinner together in heaven. A week later they sent us their pictures. I didn’t know they took a picture of our hands – but it was my favorite picture. I had just written about hands. A wonderful God-cidence!

Marty & Mindy

These hands of mine…

I had just swam my morning mile in the Kona waters.  I hopped on my moped to head for home and looked down at my hands and noticed the brown sunspots.  I smiled as I thought how much these hands have loved the outdoors. These hands, though seasoned with spots and wrinkles, have been the tools I have used to reach out and grab and embrace life.  How well my hands have served me well throughout my years.

Hands Baby
My hands have put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and plucked my guitar. They have painted the sunset and formed clay masterpieces (at least in my eyes).

They have been dirty, scraped and raw and swollen.  They have toiled in the earth, and travelled the globe. They have held lonely Grannies in Cambodia and cuddled little babies in Morocco.  They enjoy swimming in the ocean with the whales and tightly gripping the golf club with my father.

My hand displays my wedding band that shows the world that I am married and loved by someone special and wonderful. They have been held and tenderly caressed on long walks.


They have written many letters and cards to those I cherish.  They have also trembled as I held my dying mother and brother.  They joyfully embraced my husband upon news of being pregnant and then wiped away our tears when our baby went to heaven.

They have held my nieces and nephews and clapped exuberantly in their greatness, and thrown kisses and hugs around their necks. These hands have comforted friends when they lost their children, and hung in despair when I didn’t understand. They have been lifted towards heaven in surrender and worship.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, worked hard and hugged many. These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and my journey of life. These hands hold me up, lay me down, and daily continue to fold in prayer.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.

Hands of praise

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply