A few years
ago, when my mother was visiting, she asked me to go shopping with her
because she needed a new dress. I don't normally like to go shopping with
other people, and I'm not a patient person, but we set off for the mall
together nonetheless.
We visited nearly every store that carried ladies' dresses, and my mother
tried on dress after dress, rejecting them all. As the day wore on, I grew
weary and my mother grew frustrated.
Finally, at our last stop, my mother tried on a lovely blue three-piece
dress. The blouse had a bow at the neckline, and as I stood in the dressing
room with her, I watched as she tried, with much difficulty, to tie the
bow. Her hands were so badly crippled from arthritis that she couldn't
do it. Immediately, my impatience gave way to an overwhelming wave of compassion
for her. I turned away to try and hide the tears that welled up involuntarily.
Regaining my composure, I turned back to tie the bow for her. The dress
was beautiful, and she bought it. Our shopping trip was over, but the event
was etched indelibly in my memory.
For the rest of the day, my mind kept returning to that moment in the dressing
room and to the vision of my mother's hands trying to tie that bow. Those
loving hands that had fed me, bathed me, dressed me, caressed and comforted
me, and, most of all, prayed for me, were now touching me in the most remarkable
manner.
Later in the evening, I went to my mother's room, took her hands in mine,
kissed them and, much to her surprise, told her that to me they were the
most beautiful hands in the world.
I'm so grateful that God let me see with new eyes what a precious, priceless
gift a loving, self-sacrificing mother is. I can only pray that some day
my hands, and my heart, will have earned such a beauty of their own.
By Bev Hulsizer
from Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Aubery and Nancy Mitchell