How beautiful are the hands that serve
When I was young I used to love looking at my mother’s hands. I would compare her red, work worn hands with my youthful slender hands. My mother’s nails were always cut short, mine were manicured and polished. My mother’s hands were rough to the touch and they had a shiny quality like they had seen too many sink full of dirty dishes and hot water. My hands were tender and smooth as if bathed in lotion. I loved my mother’s hands. They were always gentle to the touch as she brushed my hair. They were talented as she made our clothes, prepared countless meals, cleaned the house, typed the church bulletin, played the piano and organ, gardened, canned, cleaned fish and so much more. They always felt gentle to my face when she would softly touch my cheek. My mother’s hands were hands of service every moment of every day. They were never idle and they were never empty. Her hands raised seven children and she joyfully completed all the work that seven high spirited children bring to a family. There was no job beneath my mother’s dignity. Never once did I ever hear her say – that is not my responsibility. My mother’s hands reflected her heart which was full of grace and love.
My mother’s name will never be up in lights. She will never be the CEO or own her own business. My mother, like so many women of this church, is one of the building blocks of God’s kingdom. God works through the tireless hands of women whose lives reflect the love of Christ and whose hearts are willing to serve.
What a wonderful blessing it is to be a woman in God’s Kingdom. What an endless mission field is laid before us in the lives of our families, husbands, children, siblings, parents, extended family, neighbors, friends, and acquaintances.
May we serve God through kindness, gentleness, perseverance and love. When we tire and grow discouraged may we remember the hands and hearts that have gone before. May we remember our Lord as He washed the disciple’s feet. May we remember our mothers who washed our feet and may we now cheerfully kneel down and wash the feet of those who count upon us. May our hands be as beautiful as my mother’s hands.
