The Hand….

In my earbuds; To the Only God         David Crowder Band/Shane and Shane

Psalms 71:8-9   Let my mouth be filled with thy praise and with thy honour all the day. 9) Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.

Again, as I am on this journey, this path, that God has laid out before me…”my life”. I have realized some days are easier than others…some days move so quickly I can hardly catch my breath, while others seemingly never end, but one thing is for sure, with age does come some wisdom and peace. Yes, with this wisdom also comes some body aches, (the back, the knees…need I say more?), as well as some lines that are making their way on my face, lines that seem to makeup a roadmap of my life is slowly being etched, making my journey length more evident every day. I am in awe of these changes, how fast they seemed to appear, and I am at peace with this changes….at least for today!

As I write this and peer down at my hand, the hand that is holding the pen (the hand that is typing this)…This hand…this hand has held my newborn’s hand within it, this hand has led a young crying child into the care of others, this hand has paddled a few children’s bottoms when needed, this hand has also wiped the tears from the cheeks of those children. This hand has felt the softness of a new life brought into this world, as well as stroked the hand of one that had left…Both soft, both life changing!

The one thing I have noticed most of all in regard to this hand…is the rapid change in its appearance, once firm taut skin covered it, now just a little more loose, with a spot or two (I will call them freckles), a hand that at a quick glance is the exact hand of my Grandma Bea….so amazing to me, shocking…but amazing non the less. This woman, my Grandma Bea, was flawed…but arent we all? but she loved me very much, one could say we were kindred spirits, we were very much alike, a woman after my own heart…And I believe that God gave me this hand, a little wrinkled, a little spotted and a little soft…to remind me of someone who meant a lot to me. Maybe, at some point down this road in my journey, THIS HAND maybe one…to remind a beautiful yet unformed grandchild, how loved they are and how prayed for they will by this grandma.

So this wrinkled, spotted hand, which at times makes me cringe with astonishment with how fast age is happening to it,……it is not mine, it is my Grandma Bea’s soft wrinkled, spotted hand! A woman who loved me very much.



About On the Vine

A child of the Most High, just on my journey with Him. Thoughts and observations from just me to you.
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