I was working on a scene in one of my stories. It looks like my character Andrew will get his own story someday, but he’s with his sister Isabel as they’re contemplating their lives without each other as they’ve now graduated from college and are taking jobs in two different cities, he in DC and she in Albuquerque. It’s the first time they’ve been away from each other. She reaches out and makes a comment about his hands. I’m not sure what she’s going to say exactly but it’s sort of foreshadowing to the fact that he’s going to become a priest one day.
So, I googled ” a priest’s hands” to see if what I could find and I found this poem here and thought it was pretty and worth remembering. I’ll find the right words for her to say to him.
I must admit, I’ve noticed that all the priests I know have beautiful hands.
The Beautiful Hands of a Priest
We need them in life’s early morning,
we need them again at its close;
We feel their warm clasp of friendship,
we seek them when tasting life’s woes.
At the altar each day we behold them,
and the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their
greatness; their dignity stands all alone;
And when we are tempted and wander
to pathways of shame and sin,
It’s the hand of a priest that will absolve
us—-not once, but again and again;
And when we are taking life’s partner,
other hands may prepare us a feast,
But the hand that will bless and unite
us is the beautiful hand of a priest.
God bless them and keep them all holy
For the Host which their fingers caress;
When can a poor sinner do better than
to ask Him to guide thee and bless?
When the hour of death comes upon us
may our courage and strength be increased.
By seeing raised over us in anointing the
beautiful hands of a priest!