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One day as a young cashier at our local Christian Bookstore, several weeks into my job... I was taken aback by my customer standing before me; as she beautifully handled her purse, wallet and counted change like I have never seen before.
You see? She had the most perfect of hands.
Well...to look at them initially, you wouldn't think so.
I don't believe I know her name; I don't even know her story; but I would recognize her by her hands. They were (obviously from birth) what you would call malformed.
On one hand she had a thumb and a portion of a pinkie. The other hand had two long fingers and I think a thumb - if I remember correctly.
When I saw her for the first time... I had to keep my mouth from gaping... she just amazed me with her speed, her agility, her ease, and to top it off SHE WAS A (beautiful) MOTHER - like it was nobodies business- with several young children!!!!!!!!!
((People learn to cope/accept/appreciate/serve with their God-given bodies, in amazing ways.))
But, that day I immediately looked at my two- five fingered, fully functioning hands and thought to myself.
This is crazy! I don't need all of these fingers; these two hands... look at her with her "disability" and to her this is her normal.That woman had beautiful hands!!
I - with my hands - feel clumsy, awkward, unyielding, unfriendly, and some days not-so-willing... I'm the one with the disability here.
This reminds me of another story. (And, I'm completely paraphrasing it...)
I remember reading about a young child who was very embarrassed about his Mother's hands. His mother was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever known and yet, her hands didn't match the rest of her beauty. They were ugly and scarred. She never talked about it. She just lived out her life - caring for him and loving him. Finally, as he could stand it no longer, he dared to approach her with the question of why her hands looked the way he did... admitting to his embarrassment - all along she knew, and the painful memory of that day scarred her heart even more then her hands had been. It was "no sacrifice".
She told him of the day she rescued him from his burning crib - while he was just an infant.
She knew she had to do it. His life was in her hands. Beauty sacrificed for sacrificial beauty.
The pain, the memory, the loss was nothing compared to the peace and understanding that now flooded that young son's soul as he listened to the detailed whispers of his mother's heart. She loved him.
There was nothing in all the world more precious and more dear then for him to know, that...
That woman had beautiful hands!
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What about you? What do your hands look like, to others??
Are they scarred, marred, handicap, unwilling, and not so friendly or helpful...? Or, because of all those sorts of things - they have become beautiful?
You know? I was thinking of several verses of Scripture that I could add to this post... but I thought I would let that up to you, to share today. What are a few verses that come to mind - in referance to using our hands?