Thanks for My Hand, An Able Band

A few "blogs" back, I did a piece on "tears" as a kind of thanksgiving reminder of the truly amazing and great provisions and gifts that our Heavenly Father has given us for life. We take them so for granted and think often that we are so impoverished when compared to others. Not so, for most of the world is in possession of all of these basic gifts of life. How we use them is the key to our blessing or curse. We often have heard a very true comment that should make us even more aware and thankful. "I complained when I did not have nicer shoes to wear, until I saw a man with no feet." Get the picture? Well, today I begin doing some "wax on, wax off" kind of tasks as I use my hands to do some painting in the house. Here is a thanksgiving study I did of just such gifts.

My hand.
I looked at it as though I had never seen it before,
An extension of me, but separate somehow.

The palm, with lines like a map of life,

With age, the routes, a deeper-grooved site.

It's flat side able to push great loads,

Yet gently check a child's fevered brow.

It also gives the hand its gripping base,

When joining its partners in tight embrace.

Then five fingers of different size,

Sprouting from this one common circle of clay,

Moving in unison, in response to my will.

Four seem ever to agree, yet never come face to face,

Standing like soldiers bound to one command,

While the other seems ever in opposition,

Yet necessarily so,

The only way to lift a burden,

To grip a rope of rescue,

To write what my mind desires,

To grasp another's outstretched hand, or

Do another thousand things my will demands.

Then on closer examination

All five have unique concentration.

The shorter one, so-called the thumb,

More mobil, seems to serve the taller four,

Yet must unite, as will demands,

With each in part, to complete the task at hand.

When the index finger points the way,

The thumb agrees but the others abstain.

The tallest, when joined with thumb,

Yields seeming strength to lift the frailest thing,

Like it might the edge of a butterfly's wing.

Then with its partner, index, raise

To give salute to those on whom my eyes would gaze,

And honor, as thumb and others, agreeing, bow.

The third digit, too, has a special task,

For with the thumb, and the nails of each,

It can pick up a needle the others can't reach.

Then it wears the ring,

A crown for all in everything.

Then last and least, the smallest one, too,

It has some very special jobs to do,

For it can gently wipe a tear,

My eyes to clear,

Or reach into an itching ear.

My hand.

Paul's writing to the Corinthian church in his first letter gives a description of the body as illustrative of how we should consider each other as valuable and gifted, though different than us. Note these verses highlighted, but read the entire twelveth chapter to catch his meaning. "For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body: so also is Christ...If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling?...the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be more feeble, are necessary...but God hath tempered the body together, having given more abundant honor to that part which lacked: That there should be no schism in the body, but that the members should have the same care one for another." (Verses 12, 17, 21-22, 24-25)

Now, look at your hands! Are they not amazing? Now, with me, go and pick up the brush, grip it firmly with resolve, begin to make those "wax on, wax off" moves that will ultimately make your whole body proud of you. Be encouraged today! Just look what you, in unison, can accomplish!