Monday, February 8, 2016

The Work of Hands

A thought came into my mind recently. If someone were to place me in a room and I had to distinguish my family and friends without seeing their faces... would I be able to? 

Hands. Their hands... I realized anyone that I was really close to, I knew what their hands looked like. My mind memorized their features. I was fascinated by this discovery.

Odd thought, I know. But think about it. Hands are basically all sort of similar in structure, five fingers, nails, etc,... and yet they are distinct and unique to each and every person.

Isn't that awesome?! We all have OUR very own set of hands that aren't alike to anyone else in the entire history of time in the universe! Such a simple concept but boom, such an unbelievably awesome fact.

A few days ago at work, the word domestic came up, and a child asked what it meant. The teacher went on to explain how it means having to do with the house, or being particularly well at things done at home.

Today many things have almost gone the opposite direction of domestic. Where once it was praised to be skilled in many different things such as sewing, cooking, handwriting a letter, being able to fix and work with car parts... I feel like we've almost forgotten the beauty and importance of working with our hands.

Everything is automatic, microwaveable, or instant. We type or text messages, opt for fast meals that don't require making anything from scratch, and throw aside the blouse with the buttons popped off.

Have we lost the touch?

The work of hands fascinate me. The rhythm of movement as one slices an apple, rolls out the dough, cuts the perfect angles in someones hair, paints a portrait, carefully inserts the needle in and out of a button, the way fingers glide and dance on each piano key. 

And so I observe. I watch my mamma cut, blend, and pour tomato sauce onto a rolled out dough. I look at the strokes and dotting of someone's i's in their signature. I watch as my cousin interlaces her fingers through each strand to form a braid in my sister's hair. 

Our hands are marvelous tools we often overlook, and these skills and talents are treasures I'm holding onto in the hopes they never fade away.

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