A grandfather looks at his handsHis young, admiring granddaughter was sitting with her grandfather when she noticed his hands.
They had suffered the ravages of old age. Stiffened and twisted from arthritis, they could no longer do for him what they had done in earlier years.
“Granddaddy,” the granddaughter urged, “tell me about your hands.”
He smiled, stared at his hands, and said, “These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I’ve used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.”
“They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.
“They have been dirty, scraped, swollen and bent from arthritis.
“They trembled with grief when I buried both of my parents, who were killed in an automobile accident.
“They were grateful, joyful and loving hands holding the hands of my bride at the wedding altar.”
“And to this late day in life, when most of my bodily parts do not work as they once did, these hands hold me up as they continue to fold in prayer.
“But even more importantly, it will be these hands that God will reach out and take hold of when He leads me home.
“And with my hands, He will lift me to His side and I will be blessed to use these hands to touch the face of Christ.
(Beginning this week, Dr. Jim Griffith’s column will appear only in the Sunday edition of The Newnan Times-Herald.)