Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
I have here a very touching story, author unknown. It’s also a newspaper clipping, yellowed with age. It’s just titled, “Grandma’s Hands.”
“They now lay folded in her lap, so wrinkled, so soft. No longer employed with daily tasks such as dishes or darning socks. She looks at them quietly and smiles serene for she knows every wrinkle and what it means. Each wrinkle tells a story to her, you see, of a full rich life with her family.
“These hands washed diapers and baby clothes, scrubbed clean on a board ’til they smelled like a rose. They kneaded the flour into dough for bread and churned the butter to her family she fed. They washed many dishes and scrubbed many floors, darned hundreds of socks and pants that were torn. They often lay cool on a hot fevered brow and always were gentle and healing somehow.
“They sometimes were calloused or blistered and sore from fence building, cow milking, plowing and more. Finally just knitting, crocheting and such became their last job until they lost their touch.
Her family’s forgotten these hands worked to the bone and she sits a chair in room all alone, her fingers are crooked, and lay still in her lap. She looks at them fondly, contented, as she thinks back.”
Oh please, folks, I know there are many of you, “bored to death, nothing to do,” “climbing the four walls,” “retired and tired of nothing to do.”
There are so many, so alone, perhaps in a nursing home nearby, someone who needs someone just like you to stop by, to get acquainted with, to visit with. Your life could take on a whole new meaning.
Stay happy now and remember to count your blessings.
God bless you all and share those hugs. Bye for now.
— Aunt Norie, P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie 66086; firstname.lastname@example.org.