A Lifetime of Stories in the Palm of a Hand
Mom’s taken to examining her hands lately. Advanced dementia refracts her perception and she can’t grasp that those almost-ninety-four-year-old palms and fingers belong to her. Yet those hands hold a lifetime of stories. With her cognitive filter eroded I wonder if, on some level, she sees more clearly, even if she can’t express it.
Those hands have never been idle. She and her younger siblings toiled on farms to contribute to the family coffers as soon as they were able. She worked her way through a demanding nursing education, including a post-graduate degree. Once married, she and Dad cultivated their dreams on a bedraggled fruit farm, nurturing it to maturity and viability. She returned to part-time nursing to do the work of her heart—and pay the bills. At the same time, she filled an essential role on the farm and raised six active children, all of whom participated in extra-curricular activities. Later, she joined in medical missions delivering eye care in Latin and South America.
Sitting together quietly, I watch her quizzical gaze move to her hands as they catch her attention. I contemplate the wrinkles as a roadmap and ask if she realizes how many people have benefitted from their touch? How many peaches have those hands packed? What about those Saturday morning marathon baking sessions? How many Zwieback (Mennonite buns) have those hands pummelled and formed? How many weeds did they pull from her beloved flower gardens? What have those hands done—or not done—that she regrets?
She was never given to deep introspection, at least not conveying it, and shrugs my question off, much like she would have were she fully lucid. Even though her response is incomprehensible, I like to imagine she takes some of it in and considers how much of a difference those hands have made in making a better world. Maybe it’s more that I want her to know it.
And then I open my palms and imagine my life’s roadmap. How have my hands contributed? Are they doing what they’re meant to do? Are they making the world a better place for current and future beings?
Hands deliver the work of our head and heart. They help us maintain balance by giving and receiving. We can never know how far their touch has reached but we can know with certainty that if we follow our inner guidance, our hands, decorated with scars, blemishes, and wrinkles, tell a lifetime of stories.
Author, writer, and student Liz Jansen combines her artistic mediums to create stories that inspire readers to embark on their own journey of self-discovery.
Liz an inspiring and beautiful story about your Mom I see now why you have the ‘get up & go’ attitude and energy. Love & Hugs to you both
That describes her for sure Mary. There was no time to sit around idle, or feeling sorry for oneself!! She still has it!
I haven’t written in a while. No excuse. I stumbled across the hands article while looking for something else. I think of my hands as the point through which ideas flow. They are the operational part of a painting, the connection between brain and keyboard. I suppose there would be another way to communicate, without these hands, but I’m attached to them.
My mother’s hands were similar to your mother’s. Mother was an elementary teacher in a small rural town in the Texas Panhandle. Like your mother’s, they sewed clothes for my sister and me, pulled weeds from the garden, put up vegetables, cooked meals . . . . and loved all of us as she knew how. The stories are quiet now, but the love lives on.
Beautifully expressed Jay! Love your perspective on hands—and it sounds like our moms’ hands shared similar lifetimes. Thank you!
Having cared for elderly parents, I know that it can be challenging. However, it can also be enlightening. We learn about our parents, as well as learn about ourselves.
I agree Nora. I hate to see her cognitive and physical decline. On the other hand, our time together is such a precious gift.
Such insight! Beautiful written, as always.
Mom passed away in Germany. Still hurts to know that I could not hold her hands at the end, even if she did not recognize any one of her family.
Carola, I’m sure she felt your presence and love, even when she couldn’t express it, or when you couldn’t be with her in person.
Love your article!! Wow when you share your mom’s life and all she has done and contributed in her lifetime, God bless her!! I will use this insight to have a meaningful conversation with my mother, next time I visit!
Thank you, be well!
L
Thanks Linda. (Almost) ninety-four-year-old hands have a lot to say. You be well also.