Appreciate the Sacrifices

We see the praying hands in different forms of arts but most of us do not know the story behind it.

It is about the love and sacrifices of a brother for the success of his sibling.

In the 15th century, two eldest brothers among 18 children tossed a coin with an agreement that the winner would enroll in an art course, and the loser would work in the mines to support the other.  Then after he graduates, the loser would study and the winner would provide for his needs by selling his artworks. The toss winner was Albrecht Durer, and the loser was Albert.

Long story short, Albrecht finished his studies, commissioned some art projects and earned wealth. After some years he returned home to celebrate the success and tell the brother that it was his turn to pursue the studies, make his dream come true. and he would support him.  But Albert said --

"No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately, I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. My brother, for me, it is too late.”

One day, Albrecht drew his brother's abused hands, with palms together like praying with thin fingers stretching skyward, and called it "Hands" but the world considered this tribute of love as a great masterpiece and renamed it as "The Praying Hands".

Our hands are very useful. Imagine the number of years they are used and abused by a person deeply in love with a family member, or a relative, or a friend, or any beneficiary of the fruits of the hands' labor.

When I was a small child, I saw my mother cutting fabrics with her favorite sharp scissors and sewing dresses so we could get through daily. Before my father got sick, he used his hands and body muscles working in a noodles factory to provide for the family needs. Even I was still a student, I used my hands to help my parents and brother survive by accepting typing jobs, cooking candies, painting, and other things my hands could do. In studies, my hands did most of the work, next to my brains. The most meaningful rest for them was when I put them together to pray --

"My Lord, bless the works of my hands, the ideas from my brains, the strength of my body and the treasures in my heart."

When I worked, I abused my hands and sometimes I felt them shaking and numb. But somehow by the works of my hands, some lives changed for the better.

There was a time when my left-hand ring finger was injured and dislocated, causing my whole left hand and arm fully numb for two (2) months. The story behind?  Don't ask me.  It was a bitter part of a mother's sacrifice for her family, which is better untold. The doctor had my left-hand ring and middle fingers buddy-taped, which reminded me of the value of the support system. I had to fly to the Philippines to have it treated by a local doctor and with the help of a physical therapist, miracle of all miracles, I was able to slowly move them.

As I look at my hands at this very moment, there are many wrinkles, look swollen. They are a middle-aged woman's abused hands. Some parts of my right hand skin peel off due to dishwashing liquid. The injured left-hand ring finger cannot be straightened and sometimes gets numb but it is fine with me, as it is functional again.

Whenever I see my mother's hand, I see the scissors, I see the fabrics, I hear the sewing machine singing the lullaby. I silently say, "Thank you for the gift of love."

When I help people, I do not expect them to return the favor to me. We get hurt when we expect for something. When we help people, we help people. If we support our family members, they do not owe us. It is our moral obligation to help them. But as human beings, we feel great joy when our sacrifices are appreciated in terms of respect, of not hurting us, not betraying us, not putting us down.

Some people are ungrateful. They do not think that if those resources were spent for ourselves, we could have done something more, earn more, invest in ourselves and/or items/properties, etc. They do not realize that we cannot bring back those times when we were strong to do things to follow our dreams, create wealth and enjoy many things in life. They do not know that for some time, our lives stopped spinning for ourselves, but they revolved around a planet larger than life for them.

 It is always said that "Time dominates". True. Time is of the essence. We cannot bring back the glory of the past that passed through time avenue.

When you are an overseas worker, your children do not see directly your sacrifices and what your hands do so they can have something to eat every day. There are few memories of togetherness. You cannot recreate the years when they are young, innocent like heaven-sent angels. The connection gets weak when you are far away from each other -- unless both sides exert maximum efforts to preserve the relationship ties, despite distance and time differences. If they are in tender age, the role of custodian or caregiver who serves as a messenger and a link between you and your offspring is hugely important, to inform them that you are trading your time for their future, not just for your rest and relaxation.

Today's generation, bombarded with many advertisements designed to promote consumerism, is extremely different from our generation. I need not say much. But our generation highly appreciates the sacrifices of our elders.

I always have the praying hands. I passionately mention the names of those who have sacrificed their time, talents and/or treasures for me, in my prayers, with the sincerest gratitude, and in a heartfelt request for God to bless them always.

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Photo credits:  Pixabay