THE HANDS OF THE SHEPHERDESS

By Ann McCraw In tribute to her sister, Violet Curlee (1995)

Disappointment etched its way across the face of the shepherdess, permeating her eyes with sadness, "I have such ugly hands," she moaned, scrutinizing every detail of her outstretched fingers. Then, thrusting her hands toward me as if to rid herself of them, she urged, "Look at them! They’re not dainty and beautiful. They look old, worn and weather-beaten. They….they look like a man’s hands."
In an attempt to shield the hated hands from view, she clasped them tightly together and placed them in her lap; a common practice due to her embarrassment. Then the story of her lifelong yearning to have beautiful, feminine hands - complete with long, tapered fingers and perfectly manicured nails - - spilled forth.
As her story ended, she lifted her head with an air of authority, and her voice took on the majestic tone of a divine edict. "When it comes my time to go," she announced, "I want you to make sure they put white gloves on my hands before my funeral. I don’t want people to see these ugly hands folded across my chest."
I mumbled something reassuring and the conversation ended. Since that day, however, I have given much thought to the strange request made by the shepherdess. And at this point, I am unwilling to comply with her request. My reasons are varied.
The shepherdess is my sister. She was only a ten-year old child when our mother died. I was eight months old. Hers were the loving hands that held me, caressed me and comforted me during those lonely, empty years. To me, her hands are beautiful.
Her hands worked the various harvest fields of California (including grapes, potatoes, peaches, prunes, berries, cherries, and cotton) so her three children could have a better life. They appreciate her valiant efforts, but had there been no such sacrifice, her loving hands would still be beautiful in their sight.
Her hands helped in the construction of Trinity life Chapel, which she and her late husband pioneered. She still pastors that same church, hence the term shepherdess. Over the years her hands have often cuddled the lambs and assured the sheep of her flock. Her hands are beautiful to all those she has touched, helped and lifted during her pastorate.
The hands of the shepherdess have been laid upon the heads of countless brides and grooms as they were united in holy wedlock. Those hands have lifted babies up before the Lord in dedication. Those hands have been wet with the waters of baptism. Those hands have brought a healing touch to the sick.
During a lifetime of ministry, the hands of the shepherdess have been blessed and anointed. Her hands have done the work of the Lord. Her hands have been healing hands, helping hands, loving hands, busy hands, ministering hands. Such hands ar not ugly; they are beautiful in the sight of the Lord.
Many fruitful years lie ahead for the shepherdess. Meanwhile, we, her friends, family and church have reached a unanimous decision; we refuse to put gloves on her hands when it’s her "time to go." Those hands mean too much to each of us. In our time of need, joy or sorrow, those beautiful hands have reached out and touched our lives.
So, in some far distant future, when it’s time to bid the shepherdess a final farewell, her bare hands will lie folded across her chest. One by one, we will march by and consider it an honor to look upon those beautiful hands one last time.

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