The Treasure of an Old Woman's Hands

I’d never given much thought to an old woman’s hands until I looked at my mother’s wrinkled ones covered with age marks. Now she is gone and I regret not giving voice to what those hands represented.Funny how something so ordinary becomes holy when viewed through the lens of thankfulness.I appreciated the blacktop on the road in front of my house when I started walking again after many months recovering from foot surgery. The blacktop made the road smooth. Uneven ground threatened my balance. The ability to walk and pray without having to constantly look where my foot was placed gave me a freedom I had missed.Thornton Wilder once remarked, “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” How alive are you today? What are your treasures?

In Him together, Susan Gaddis