Hands
By Andrea Caroline Padgett Fife
Updated thoughts on Feb. 27, 2011

The hand is an amazing creation. It consists of twenty-seven bones and with the thumb can perform countless tasks.  It has many functions and responsibilities.  One hand can be trained more than the other and be favored by its master.  It works in sync with the body to sew, grasp, pull, push, climb, swim, clean, throw, draw, write, wave, and play an instrument. The hand is  magnificent and the tasks performed  are endless.   There are tiny hands, big hands, young hands, and old hands.  They come in different colors and some are soft and smooth while others are more used and calloused.
 The pair of hands I admire the most are the hands who offered safety and comfort through my life.  These hands were forty-two years old when they first held me.  I remember these hands held mine when I crossed the street. They washed my clothes after I played outside.  They prepared the most glorious food and even the best cookies in the world.  These hands offered comfort when I was sick and rubbed vicks sauve on my neck and put a handkerchief tucked in into my jammy shirt to protect my eyes.  I would take a deep breath and feel cured immediately.  These were not just healing hands but magic hands.  I remember being terrified of the dark when it was bedtime and having nightmares.  These hands were quickly there to lend comfort and the monsters in my dreams stayed away.   I cannot even begin to tell you how many years I saw these hands offer comfort to many people.  There was so much service given that it would take a lifetime to write.  These hands spent a lifetime of giving.
One of the most treasured memories that I have of these hands was on my wedding day in the Atlanta Temple.  These hands helped me into my beautiful gown in the bride’s room.  Those hands were wet with tears.
  Those beautiful hands would follow me from state to state as an adult and lovingly help with my children.   These were happy hands as they participated in songs like, pop-corn popping , Little puppy dog that I call Spot, Hoppy toad and, Jumbo elephant.  One of the favorite songs was in the old Primary children’s song book.  Not the old orange one but the older one.  This song was about hands.  “I have two little hands folded snuggly and tight, they are tiny and weak yet they know what is right.  During all the long hours till day light is through, there is plenty indeed for my two hands to do.”     These hands were expert at entertaining children.  These hands always brought happiness and comfort.
Many years passed and these hands became arthritic and more wrinkled with spots on them but they continued to be the most beautiful hands in the world. These hands, I took for granted when I was growing up but I begin to understand their significance as I became a mother and grandmother. These perfect hands belong to one of the most wonderful people in the universe.  They were my mothers.
 I moved further away and spent longer periods without seeing her hands.  On October 10, 2010,  after hearing that she had been hospitalized for a heart attack,  I quickly flew Georgia so that I could hold her hand and offer her comfort.  She was sleeping very soundly as I entered her room at Emory Hospital in Atlanta. I did not want to disturb her so I sat and watched her sleep for over an hour.  When the nurse came in to turn her over, my mother looked at me like I was a dream.  She wasn’t expecting my presence and she quickly reached for me with her hands. She pulled me closer and I enjoyed her embrace as we both wept.  She continued to look at me for a long period of time while holding my hand with her left hand and stroking my hair with her other.  We both had tears streaming down our faces as she kept saying “I am so happy” and “I love you so much.”  These phrases were repeated many times that night.  I remember thinking it had been a long time since I felt those hands stroke my hair.   In my heart, I knew that I must enjoy that moment and never forget because the end of her earthly journey was near.  I will always cherish the moments we spent holding hands during the last weeks of her life. 
(These are my unfinished thoughts about her hands.  I have many more ideas running through my head which I will finish later.)
Love,  Annie  
One of the many who have been touched my an angel

Offering our deepest condolences during this difficult time.

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Mrs. Edna Mae Merriman Padgett

July 5, 1922 – November 9, 2010

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