[Nameplate] Fog/Mist ~ 72°F  
High: 90°F ~ Low: 71°F
Friday, Aug. 29, 2014

These old hands

Posted Saturday, May 14, 2011, at 2:25 PM

(Photo)
Have you ever looked at your hands--I mean really looked at them, and realized how faithfully they have served you as tools, helping you create a portrait of your existence, and how they helped you reach out and embrace the facets of life as you travel through the framework of time?

Ever since our first breath. our hands have been the most versatile part of our body, waving frantically if we were distressed or disturbed. They served as a brace as we endeavored to make our first steps and softened the blow when we lost our balance and came crashing to the floor, then helped us to our feet for another trial at navigating our way through this complex world.

Before we were aware that there was such thing as a vocabulary, our hands were speaking a language all their own, as they reached out to grasp the desirable morsels of life, and pushed aside that which did not appeal to us. These hands soon became agile enough to put food in our mouth, to tie our shoes and button our shirt. When we started school, our hands learned to write, making it possible for us to record the events of our daily life, and communicate with others that were not within range of our voice. Our hands learned to design, construct and create objects that would become an integral part of our lives. We felt the wave of emotion as we held the hand of that dear friend, and with a handshake we consummated that binding promise of a business deal.

Now I take another look at these old hands; though wrinkled, shriveled and weak, there is a lifetime of memories in these old hands, as they bear witness as to where I have been and the ruggedness of life. They have been dirty, scratched, scraped, blistered and swollen; yet they continue to serve me. They are the hands of a person who has experienced the many wonders of life, wonders that younger hands may eventually encounter.

These hands were uneasy and clumsy as I used them to hold my newborn, great-great-grandson. They lovingly held my wife of 63 years and wiped away the torrent of tears as she departed this life.

Now, in the twilight of my life, I fold these hands in prayer and trust that God will reach out and take these hands in his as he leads me to my heavenly home.


Comments
Showing most recent comments first
[Show in chronological order instead]

Thanks, Paul! Very touching and thoughtful!

-- Posted by swift on Mon, May 16, 2011, at 4:00 PM

Thank you, Mr. Paul, for a wonderful portrait of words, expressing the blessings of life with the passages from your hands, regards, kkr

-- Posted by kkcaver47 on Mon, May 16, 2011, at 3:09 PM

Thanks for a beautiful article Mr Corbin. My 'old' hands have served me well all these years, liver spots as they are called, large veins for an iv, I am still able to sign my Soc Sec check, thank you Lord.

My dear departed wife I was married to over 51 years hands never aged. In spite of raising 4 children, washing many dishes, she never wished for a dishwasher (said the dishes never looked clean), her hands were soft and pretty when she departed in 2006.

Please keep your hands busy for many more years, sharing wonderful stories of life.

-- Posted by Dexterite1 on Sun, May 15, 2011, at 10:17 AM

I remember my mother's hands as she washed dishes, and I stood beside her at the kitchen sink, rinsing them and drying them. Her wedding ring, a very tiny gold band, would clink against the glasses. It was a reassuring sound that meant "home."

-- Posted by goat lady on Sun, May 15, 2011, at 9:48 AM

I can still hear my grandmother's voice saying, "These old hands aren't so pretty, but they're still working hands." She was thankful for hands that could work, though gnarled with arthritis. Hers were such gentle hands to comfort the grandchildren, or the friends who needed anything at all. Thank God for our hands. This was a beautiful article, Mr. Corbin.

-- Posted by GONENOW on Sat, May 14, 2011, at 5:56 PM

I can still hear my grandmother's voice saying, "These old hands aren't so pretty, but they're still working hands." She was thankful for hands that could work, though gnarled with arthritis. Hers were such gentle hands to comfort the grandchildren, or the friends who needed anything at all. Thank God for our hands. This was a beautiful article, Mr. Corbin.

-- Posted by GONENOW on Sat, May 14, 2011, at 5:56 PM

Nice job, Paul. A great word picture.

-- Posted by ksteinhoff on Sat, May 14, 2011, at 3:36 PM

Thanks, Mr. Corbin. You made me wipe a few tears of my own.

-- Posted by Ducky on Sat, May 14, 2011, at 2:57 PM

Wonderful piece of writing, Paul! It made me cry!

-- Posted by goat lady on Sat, May 14, 2011, at 2:52 PM


Respond to this blog

Posting a comment requires free registration. If you already have an account, enter your username and password below. Otherwise, click here to register.

Username:

Password:  (Forgot your password?)

Your comments:
Please be respectful of others and try to stay on topic.


Bunyan Tales
Paul Corbin
Recent posts
Archives
Blog RSS feed [Feed icon]
Comments RSS feed [Feed icon]
Login
Paul Corbin is a 98-year-old historian, humorist, and amateur archeologist from Advance, Mo. He grew up in the Greenbrier area west of Advance, where he attended Stepp School on the banks of Cato Slough and the Castor River, important waterways throughout his life. In an age when many area residents did not go to high school, the young Corbin made the decision to walk the five miles to Zalma, graduating in 1933. Throughout his life, he was an enterprising businessman, selling Watkins products from house to house throughout a large area - and later opening a variety store in Advance. He and his wife Geneva traveled throughout the United States, even following the route that the Lewis and Clark expedition traveled. His knowledge of Native American culture is extensive, and he has donated a sizeable collection of his artifacts to the Cape Girardeau Conservation Nature Center and the Bollinger County Museum of Natural History in Marble Hill. Throughout the years, he has submitted articles to TBY, the North Stoddard Countian, the Ozark Mountaineer, and several other Missouri publications. He has also written two books - "Reflections in Missouri Mud," and "Fragments of my Feeble Mind." The first one is out of print.
Hot topics
The Tornado of 1963: My memories
(4 ~ 5:06 PM, Apr 14)

How I became an Archaeologist
(3 ~ 11:34 AM, Jul 20)

The City Farmer
(2 ~ 6:11 AM, Feb 27)

The Moon Shiner
(2 ~ 7:10 AM, Dec 30)

Learning Arithmetic
(4 ~ 5:08 PM, Dec 28)