Big Time Team Players
Always Up for a Challenge: My Hands
There is no chance that I take my hands for granted. Talk about team players. They step up to the plate regardless of the challenge literally at hand. The result of a lifetime of hard physical work is often targeted to our hips, our back, and of course what I can recently attest to is our shoulders. When the tasks are needed to be completed, the brain sends its message and more often than not the hands are the implements that carry the whole thing off.
There was nothing that set us apart from any other family of farm kids. The end of a pitch fork was second nature. The twine strings holding an 80-pound alfalfa bale were tackled many times before we thought to look for a pair of the yellow fuzzy chore gloves. By the way, they came in one size: “huge.” Garden tillers were also known as “a kid with a hoe.” Most Saturdays mom had me in the kitchen baking bread for the week that was to come. As I was in 4-H, the record keeping process included such a weekly task. Dough hooks on standalone mixers were not in our home and the hands tumbled and punched that dough to perfection.
I have no doubt that as the four pair of extra hands, aka: children of Raymond and Lena, left home there was a need for a second look at how things were accomplished on the farm. I also know that we returned many times to lend that hand when we were needed or if there was even a hint that we could give extra help. There came a time when my brother Michael took over the farming operation and my Mom and Dad continued enjoying some of their life’s passions as they took life a bit easier.
When I met my children’s dad I had star dust in my eyes and we struck out for Texas almost as we were on a mission to homestead us an acre of land – which we did. The acre of pasture had city water and sewer up to the property line and the rest was up to us. The blessing is we did not have to fight the frost line as is in Minnesota, but the little chicken house that was soon to be our home was towards the back of the acre. The Pundt Hardware in Riesel, Texas, sold each of us a shovel and we went about the task. My hands had quite the workout, and as my fingers became more slender, my high school graduation ring slipped unnoticed off my finger and is somewhere within the lengths of those trenches.
Through the 1960s Orlin and I experienced farming and having babies. The hands that used a pick ax to get frozen silage out of the silo for the milk cows gently caressed the little bodies of Carrie and Kevin when hugs were needed as they would follow behind me wherever I went on the farm site, getting their fair amount of bumps and bruises. Their tiny hands in mine: priceless. Holding them close as they loved being rocked to sleep for naps: more of a blessing than can be retold. As Carrie and Kevin have grown into adults, the warmth of their hugs as I pull them close to me with my hands on their backs give so much back to me. When grandchildren Megan and Nicholas slip their hands into mine I can’t believe the blessing they have brought into my life and I know I want more of that.
Many times as I continue enjoying my passions of sewing and handwork the hands need a bit of encouragement to get those fingers to bend and twist in the motion that is required for a finished product. That finished product takes longer to achieve than it used to, but I don’t mind. In life it is all about “if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” I have the will to continue trying new crochet patterns and new quilt patterns and I do not want to let go of the hand quilting. Twelve stitches to the inch is the goal. That would be the goal of a perfectionist, but not my goal. I know when to take some projects to the Old Alley Quilt Shop in Sherburn and when to still take that literal stab for my hand quilting.
Arthritis Loved the Thumb Joints
When I had this story rumbling around in my head I knew I would want hubby Dennis to be my photographer. Taking the photo of my hands lying flat on the dining room table was a no-brainer. When trying to take a photo of my open hands, it hit me just how much arthritis has enjoyed having its way with my hands. There is no longer the ultimate open palm to display. Wow. It took me back a bit, but only for a moment as I know the plans I have on the back burner for these hands and these ten fingers, somewhat swollen with arthritic joints. As I said, I was somewhat taken aback as it was as if I was looking at my Mom’s hands and how they looked in her later life.
Team Stauffer
My wedding ring has been made larger and must be worn on the middle finger as the ring can’t make the bend round the skewed knuckle. Everyday I wear my wedding ring to Dennis and also the wedding ring my Mom wore until it would not fit her expanding knuckle joint. I take encouragement every day in struggles that may come up just by having Mom’s silver band next to the band that shows me how important Dennis is to me. The decision for the second shoulder surgery could not have made without knowing that Dennis would be there every day, and not only predominantly for the physical help that comes as a part of my recovery. To this day and every day I need Dennis’ strong emotional support when mine can wane. I need the humor that Dennis offers when there is enough vanity left in me that I have humiliating and embarrassing thoughts and actions. Dennis allows me to laugh at myself after his eyes have met mine and I see the twinkle in his brown eyes and the laughter just busts out of both of us. I need the strength that Dennis offers as he leaves me to my own to get in and out of clothes when the lime green bathrobe is begging to be laundered rather than him jumping in for the helping hand. Yes, we made this decision for surgery as team players, knowing that as weary as the hands may be, they can go on to do many, many things to come, but once the shoulders were gone, the hands would pay a huge price. In closing up this story, I think my left hand with a bit of help with the right hand confined to a sling did just great.
I love being a part of the team that lives and loves here on Stauffer Avenue.
In life, please remember to give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.
