The other day I studied my hands. Gone were the callouses from hard work. I remember using fingernail clips and scissors to trim the callouses. Sometimes the callouses would crack open and become sore. At times, my hands would be so rough that I could not rub my hands across fine linen without snagging the material. Loading paperwood, using wrenches, and handing hoes, picks, and shovels make callouses.
Gone are oil and grease stains. My hands were always in something greasy or
in burnt motor oil. Growing up poor, my
daddy, brothers, and I did a lot of repair to worn out and broke down
equipment. Burnt motor oil and dirty
grease are two of the hardest things to clean off your hands. Grease and oil under the fingernails will
stain the nails. An old friend taught me
to scrape hand soap under my nails before working in grease and oil prevents
stains. Clean oil and WD 40 will also
help clean-burnt oil and nasty grease.
Gone from my hands were the stains and smells of “hawg killin’.” Pigs love nasty. Scaldin’ and pullin’ hair on a 300lb nasty
pig will stain your hands. I had to wear
off the smell and the stain.
Gone are the splinters, the black fingernails, cuts, and
scrapes. I have had some booger
splinters. I had one go deep under a
fingernail. Momma had to cut the nail
deep into the “quick,” almost the whole nail, just to use tweezers to pull it
out from under the nail. I remember
pulling the nail off my middle finger when I shut it in the front door. My hands have been so sore that it hurt to
use them.
That’s enough about my hands. Before COVID -19, I would shake a lot of
hands and I take notice of the hands I hold.
Hands reflect the person. I
noticed the calloused hands of a lady the other day. It had been a long time since I felt a female
hand that calloused. I knew the lady
worked hard with her hands.
I notice that many of my colleagues in the full-time
ministry have soft hands. They tend to
be very protective, especially now, of their hands and have a flimsy
shake. I think to myself, oooh. I noticed back then that some of these
soft-handed colleagues had small bottled hand sanitizers and cleanse their
hands after shaking hands. I know that
today that COVID must be driving them bonkers.
Sometimes I wish that these colleagues would have a clinic on hand
sanitation for some of the folks in fast food restaurants business.
Most folks have firm handshakes. Every once in a while, I get a fellow that
wants to show me how strong he is and how weak I am. You know the one that squeezes your hand
where your fingers twist together and if you are wearing a ring, the impression
of the ring lingers on the finger for a while.
A doctor friend showed me how to prevent “My hand is a vice, you wimp”
technique.
I try not to hurt the hands of people when shaking. Arthritis has crippled some hands. Some hands are small and tender.
As I examined my hands I thought of the song, Daddy’s Hands, Holly Dunn recorded.
I remember Daddy’s hands, folded
silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy’s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I’ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I’ll always remember the love in Daddy’s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I’ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy’s hands.
I remember Daddy’s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I’d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy’s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I’ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy’s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love...
In Daddy’s hands.
I think of my daddy’s hands when I hear
this song. His hands were big and
strong. I also think of Jesus’
hands. I have to believe that his hands
were calloused and scared from years of carpentry. I wonder what the Roman soldier thought as he
nailed Jesus’ hands to the cross. I am
sure it was not the same as those that Jesus touched.
Now
when the sun was setting, all they that had any sick with divers diseases
brought them unto him; and he laid his hands on every one of them, and healed
them (Luke 4:40 KJV).
Jesus
knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he was
come from God, and went to God. . . (John 13:3 KJV).
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