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 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 three piece blue 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 the arthritis that she couldn't do it. Immediately, my impatience gave away to an overwhelming wave of compassion for her. I turned away to try to hide the tears that welled up involuntarily.
Regaining my composure, I turned back to the 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, and, most of all, prayed for me, were now touching Me in a most remarkable manner.
Later in the evening, I went to my mothers' 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.
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