My Crown & My Hands

"Age spots." "Liver spots." Neither of those terms makes me feel any better about the colorful new marks I have on my hands. I asked the dermatologist about it. Of course, he was almost young enough to be my son, so he didn't seem to have much sympathy for my question. I innocently asked if there was anything that would help lighten these little spots on my hands. With a mischievous kind of grin he responded with something like, "Oh, those are just the first spots you get after you turn 29." Bleh!!! Wrong answer!

So I'm trying to find the balance. I know some things just come with growing older. Wonderful things are happening to my skin. And my hair is changing colors! The person in the mirror seems much older (most days) than the person inside my body. The aches and pains I'm feeling are things I remember my grandmother complaining about!

Yet, at the same time, I know God's perspective is different. Proverbs 16:31 says, "The hoary head is a crown of glory..." Hmmm... a crown. My gray hair? a crown??? Guess I need to change my thinking, eh? After all, if GOD says my gray hair is a crown, then who am I to question?

Of course, that's only the first part of the verse. The entire verse reads like this, "The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness." I need to remember that, indeed, I'm a child of the King. That makes me a princess! And as a princess, I have certain responsibilities. I must live a life worthy of the royal calling to which I'm called. I need to remember that one of my primary goals in life is to please my Father, the King.

And my hands... I wish they were still soft and smooth like my newborn granddaughter's hands, but they're not. Of course, in her mind the only thing her cute little hands are good for are for sucking on (which she enjoys immensely, by the way). My hands, on the other hand, stay quite busy. They've changed diapers and washed dishes and folded laundry. They've scrubbed floors and pulled weeds and made beds. They've fixed little girls hair and bandaged boo-boos and given hugs. They've zipped ski jackets and sewn clothing and scrapbooked memories. They've written letters and made valentines and baked goodies.

I have to remember that God gave me my hands for a purpose. They're meant to work, to serve, to praise, to bless and to love. Deuteronomy 2:7 says, "For the LORD thy God hath blessed thee in all the works of thy hand..." If my hands are for God, and not for me, then it's God that needs to be pleased with my hands...not myself! I'm concerned with the way they look and feel. He's concerned with the way they're used.

My mom recently sent this to me via e-mail. I don't know the author, but it so speaks to me where I am...

GRANDMA'S HANDS

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench
She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.
When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence
and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her
but wanting to check on her at the same time,
I asked her if she was OK.

She raised her head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma,
but you were just sitting here staring at your hands
and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked.
mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.
I turned them over, palms up and then palms down.
No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands
as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have,
how they have served you well throughout your years.
These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak
have been the tools I have used all my life
to reach out and grab and embrace life.

"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.
They 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 pulled on my boots.
They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

"They have been dirty, scraped and raw , swollen and bent.
They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.
Decorated with my wedding band
they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.
They wrote my letters to him
and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

"They have held my children and grandchildren,
consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
They have covered my face, combed my hair,
and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.
And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well
these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.
But more importantly
it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.
And with my hands He will lift me to His side
and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again.
But I remember
God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.
When my hands are hurt or sore
or when I stroke the face of my children and husband
I think of grandma.
I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.
I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

-- Author Unknown


Now I just need to learn contentment.

Lord, God... may I grow old gracefully. Please forgive my discontent. Thank you for these hands You've given to me. They've allowed me to do so much! Forgive me for focusing on my weaknesses... for I know that in my weakness You are able to work and show yourself strong. May I be faithful, Father, to be available to You. Use my hands for Your glory. May they be willing to serve and to love. May they be quick to praise You. "Let us lift up our heart with [our] hands unto God in the heavens." (Lamentations 3:41) And Lord, help me see myself through Your eyes. May I live as the princess you've created me to be. May my life be pleasing to You, and may I do nothing to tarnish the crown which you've entrusted to me.