Published Sunday, August 19, 2012
Some time ago I wrote a column for the Newnan Times-Herald reflecting on the multi-millions of dollars spent every year by those who wish to make their hands beautiful.
In thinking of this the other day, I remembered an experience of a young man which changed his life and had much to do with what he became.
It was a simpler time.
Wealth was limited to a few. Church was the most important place in our lives – not only the spiritual center, but it was where we gathered with our friends for social activities, as we sought to grow up to become what God wanted us to be.
A young man stood with his mother at the window and watched an elderly woman walk by their house.
His mother said, “There goes old Mrs. Estelle Hall, the one with beautiful hands.”
The son looked again as the small figure, stooped with age, leaning heavily on her cane, slowly and painfully made her way down the road.
Thinking of her twisted, arthritic hands, the son said, “Mother what do you mean by calling her hands beautiful?”
“Son,” his mother replied, “her old, gnarled hands are beautiful because she has always used them to do something for others.”