Aching Hands Won’t Put Me on the Sidelines | by Linda Brendle

I’ve written about hands a couple of times recently. First I wrote about Mom’s hands,  and then I wrote about volunteers’ hands. Today I’m writing about my own hands. I’m developing arthritis, and my hands are hurting this morning. My hands don’t look like Mom’s yet, but I can see some changes. The tips of two fingers lean slightly to the left, and the end joint on another finger is noticeably enlarged. I can no get my wedding ring past an enlarged knuckle, and my thumbs don’t work right. The joints where the thumb joins the hand is often painful enough that I can’t open lids, and this morning when David and I took a stroll around the property with our coffee, I had trouble finding a way to hold my cup that didn’t hurt. It’s nothing I can’t handle with over-the-counter pain relievers, though, and it’s not the first time I’ve had trouble with my hands.

Mom’s Busy Hands | by Linda Brendle

One of my writer friends recently issued a challenge in her blog to describe the hands of someone; to try and show this person to the reader by showing her hands. I immediately thought of Mom’s hands. If I had to describe them in one word, I’d have to use the word “busy.”

The Risk of Making a Joyful Noise | by Linda Brendle

A couple of weeks ago the worship leader at my church asked if I would sub on the piano this past Sunday. There was a slight pause as several thoughts ran through my head.

It’s been 15 or 20 years since I played for a worship service and over a year since I’ve touched a keyboard that wasn’t attached to a computer.

I’ve never played most of the praise choruses we sing now, and a week doesn’t give me a lot of time to learn.

The church doesn’t have a real piano. It’s an electronic keyboard, and I’ve never played one. Besides that, Stacy stands up to play, and I don’t know if I can do that.