One Polished Hand

I have a very loving and caring Mother who currently she lives in a Nursing Home.

A year ago Mom was not doing well and I transferred her closer to me. As a matter of fact I was preparing for her home going. I was preparing for her funeral.

It has been a slow healing process. She is not always able to verbalize her thought. I know that she is doing her best to express herself. Sometimes it is understandable and other times not so.

Upon one of my visits I had polished her nails. She like her nails to look nice. I had to go to the Nursing station to make a request and I left her for a few minutes. When I returned, she had taken the nail polish and was polishing her nails. I just smiled and told her that she was doing good.

I let her finish and I cleaned up after her with such joy. Then I gave her my hand and allowed her to polish me nails. It was very messy but I was so thankful for her efforts.

I went home with one hand which had polish on my skin and nails. It did not matter to me what it looked like. My hand represented a testimony and I was willing to share it.

As I looked at my hand it was a reminder, that last year I shed many tears due to her deteriorating condition. This year I am rejoicing for answered prayers.