These Hands

 These hands. 

These hands spend most of their days pecking away at a keyboard, and not for the purpose of blogging. These hands seem like they're made to do office work. They're fast at typing. But they are capable of much more than that. 

These hands have held babies, human and animal. They know to be gentle. They have cuddled kittens and stroked the faces of newborn calves. They have tickled small children until they couldn't stop giggling. They've wiped away tears and patched up the most tender of wounds. They've rolled out pie crusts, peeled potatoes, fixed countless meals, baked countless birthday cakes, and washed endless amounts of dishes. These hands are nothing short of able. 

These hands have also done hard work. They've fixed fences and given shots. They've hung on to the rope of a newly haltered steer while he tried his best to break free, and didn't let go. They've operated tractors and packed hay bales. 

These hands have been painted and done up, but more often than not, the nails are left natural. A blank slate. They know it's harder to remove dirt from under fake nails. They aren't usually pretty, but they are capable. 

These hands are scarred and calloused. But they wear the most gorgeous ring, from the most gentle man. These hands have been folded in prayer, first for that man to appear, and then in thanksgiving for the relationship they had prayed and worked so hard for. They have stroked the stubble on his chin and smiled, knowing how hard he works for the both of them. 

These hands have been around almost twenty-two years. It's not much, but they have seen their fair share of life. 

Sometimes, late at night, these hands are just the hands of a young woman who is so grateful to God for the wonderful life she has. And they're happy just being still, laying next to the man she loves.