Working Hands

The other day I was up in Portland (a couple hours north of Eugene) and was invited to a luncheon, hosted by my daughter's boyfriend's grandmother. (That's a mouthful!) I had spent the night before just hanging out with a friend and her son, who was having some medical treatments. I was completely under-dressed for this luncheon. If it's ever happened to you, you know how it feels!

Not only was I under-dressed, I was uncomfortably aware of how terrible my hands looked! The other 4 women had elegant hands with gorgeous, painted nails. I usually don't think about my hands. But in this setting, I was drawn to them. I found myself trying to keep them hidden under the table.

Jim gives me an anniversary ring each year. After 28 years, you can imagine that I have to wear them in rotation. My fingers are not long enough to proudly display 28 years of marriage. So, yes, I have beautiful rings.

But that is where the beautiful begins and ends. My hands are nicked and bruised. I never have nice nails. The tips get sanded off or worn off or drilled off. If you work with your hands, you know what I am talking about.

It seems so ironic that, to create lovely things, I have to de-lovely my hands. His mother told me that she loves her Fleur de Lys Measuring Spoons, which Rosella gave her for Christmas. She is just the sweetest person so I am going to trust that she will see past my pewter-worn hands!

Her sisters and mother seemed just as sweet. It was a lovely lunch and, looking back, I am going to bet that they saw past my hands, as well. :)