Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Grandma's Hands

Bill Dennis forwarded this to me....thought I would share it here.


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.. 'I 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 God.'

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.

Why I Chose This Name For My Blog

The wife and I watch these British comedies on Saturday nights alot......Are You Being Served, Waiting For God, Keeping Up Appearances and As Time Goes By. The last one is one of our favorites and I thought this title says alot since it is pretty much the way things move.....As Time Goes By. Heck - that applies to everyone. Plus it instills memories of past happenings in the title - kind of like my websites and what they are all about.

Jay Hudson of Jay's Musings sent me a message today referring to this new blog and was intrigued by the name I chose and wondered why. So, there's the answer above.

A Small Cross - A Powerful Message

 Keith Dennis passed this along....

When driving to, from, and through Frankenmuth , Michigan , I'm always intrigued with the many small simple crosses in the front yards of the homes we pass by.

Those crosses are a statement of support for Frankenmuth's Christian foundation.

Two years ago an atheist living there complained about two crosses on a bridge in town. He requested that they be removed and the town removed them.

He then decided that, since he was so successful with that, the city shield should also be changed since it had on it, along with other symbols, a heart with a cross inside signifying the city's Lutheran beginnings.

At that point, the residents decided they had had enough. Hundreds of residents made their opinions known by placing small crosses in their front yards.

Seeing this quiet but powerful statement from the community, the man removed his complaint. Those simple crosses remain in those front yards today.

After passing those crosses for two years, it finally hit me that a small cross in millions of front yards across our country could provide a powerful and inspiring message for all Americans passing them every day.

First Try at Blogging

Well I am going to give this a shot. Don't know how much time I will have to contribute to this blog because most of my time is taken up with taking care of my wife Sandra. More on that later.


I have two websites - RockinghamRemembered and RockinghamMemories. So, in your spare time, check them out and see what you think. They are mostly about growing up in Rockingham, NC during the 50s and 60s...plus more.


Just want to see if I get any responses to this blog, as I am putting a link to it on my websites above. 

Drop me a line and discuss anything you want. Be glad to hear from you.