The tiny hands of an infant are soft and pink and fine, they wave around so aimlessly like the branches of a vine.

The little hands of children always poking everywhere, make a wonderous picture when they are folded in prayer.

Girls' hands are soft and gentle as around your heart they're curled, don't underestimate their strength boys, they are the hands that rule the world.

The hands of boys are calloused caused by work and competitive play, as they fit themselves to take their place in this complexed world of today.

Mother's hands are often worn as they do the jobs of home, no matter what the chore is be assured it will get done.

Father's hands are strong and steady sometimes rough though kind, as he guards his family's welfare and the future of this vast land.

Grandma's hands look veined and fragile as they hold the Holy Book, but are so strong and skillful with knitting needles or a crochet hook.

Grandpa's hands are shaky and wrinkled sometimes cramped with pain, it's hard to handle a pipe or the paper or even grip his cane.

Each pair of hands have a story to tell In this world of hurry and strife, so read them very carefully for they are the hands of life.

written by Deborah