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)
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