Her Hands

While I washed my hands today, I asked the Lord to bless the work of our hands.
I thought of an encounter at the store.

I don’t remember much of her,
No name, nor what she wore,
But that her old hands made me stare
From six feet in the store.

I wondered if each deed she’d done
Had left their mark in lines,
And if the names of those she touched
In gnarling I could find

I clearly saw her open palms,
Saw years of work and care,
Imagined hands which children calmed
Then folded tight in prayer.

I thought of Jesus and His hands –
His nail-pierced hands of love –
How He surrendered all His plans
Into the Hands above.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and establish the work of our hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!
Psalm 90:17 (ESV) 
(Poem and picture, Heidi Viars, 2020)


  1. What a precious moment in the checkout line! That woman must have surrendered herself countless times to the work at hand, ignoring her own desires. Love the poetry you spun out of your experience–beautiful hands that image a mother’s love and image our Savior’s love too. No doubt, for the rest of the day, she carried close to her heart your sweet words of affirmation, Heidi!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Thank you Heidi, I see my own hands even as hers. Psalm 90:17 is the last thing I pray before my feet touch the floor every morning. From our head, to our heart, to our hands, the Lord works to complete His plans. Much love and blessings for you and your family.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks, Linda, for reading. When she paid, she fumbled through her wallet, apologizing for being slow. She explained that she had arthritis really bad, which was obvious. I just said, “I am sure you have done a lot of hard work with those hands.” It just came out of my mouth … but somehow it must have touched something inside of her. She just turned around, smiled and nodded. Funny, how encounters like these stick with us.

      Liked by 3 people

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