Old hands

I heard a story on the radio the a few years ago that touched my heart. And God has put it on my heart to pass it along. It was a hand written letter from a lady in her eighties that resided in a nursing home. I hope that I can remember all the details, at any rate I’ll do the best I can.
The lady writes.
My hands are old, my hands are so very old and ugly. They used to be as smooth as a peach’s skin, but now they feel so rough and so dry. My hands are old and ugly.
My name is Nellie, though no one calls me that any more. The people at the nursing home call me missy or dear. Some even call me Mrs. But they don’t call me Nellie, my name is Nellie. My children come each week they call me Mom or Mother. My grandchildren call me granny, grandmom or even grandmother. But of course they don’t call me by my name. My name is Nellie. I just wanted you to know my name is Nellie, while I can still remember it.
My children and grandchildren all tell me they love me, every time they come. but I’m still so very lonely, no one touches me any more. My husband used to hold my hand as we sat together. But he’s now gone on and is with the Lord. My children once held my hand as we walked along the streets of the town. But I've not felt their touch for so very long now. Do you think the reason that they don’t touch me any more is because of my hands. My hands are so old, so very old and ugly.

Hey, why don't you go give that elderly Mother or Father, or that aging Grandmother or Grandfather of yours a tender hug. Tell them you love them, and tell them how much you care for them. Make them feel important, make them feel a part of your life. Make them feel like they matter. And by all means hold their hands.

Until next time God bless and God save.