Tonight I faced my nightmare and spent 2 hours tackling my blooming back yard. I was exhausted after a busy day at the office, but the dandelions appeared ready to do a stealth attack under the fence and into my neighbour's garden.
Despite missing one garden glove, I spent time on my hands and knees to get to the root of the problem. Pesky weeds. They had no intention of being being eliminated. My stubbornness kept me going until I'd filled 4 buckets for the composter.
It was a relief to come inside and wash my filthy hands. It took several tries. The use of a nail brush and plenty of soap. Now the soil and weed juice is finally out from under my fingernails. Perhaps some lotion will soothe the roughness away.
Hands can say a lot about a person. Soft and gentle. Caring hands. Calloused and strong. Working hands.
Jesus' hands... rough from carpentry. Nail-scarred from His sacrifice on the cross. Reaching out to all of us in love. Healing hands. Holding mine in His each day.
I want my hands to look like that...
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