Mother's
Hands
by Arthur S. Maxwell, adapted by Karen Flowers
A young mother laid her baby girl to sleep in her cradle. I'll
just go to the neighbors for a minute to visit, she thought to
herself. I haven't had time to talk to her for such a long time.
But while she and the neighbor were chatting, the city fire alarm
sent a chill through them both.
"Don't worry," said the neighbor. "Most likely
it's only a grass fire. There are lots of them at this time of
year. I'm sure the fire isn't anywhere near here."
"But listen," said the mother. "I think I hear
the fire engine coming this way. Look! People are running down
the street—running toward my house!"
Without another word she dashed into the street and ran with the
gathering crowd. Then she saw it. Her own house was on fire! Smoke
and flames were already pouring through the roof.
"My baby!" she cried frantically. "My baby!"
The crowd was thick around the house, but she pushed and shoved
until she reached the door. A fireman stopped her and said, "You
can't go in there! You will be burned!"
But the mother cried, "Let me go! Let me go!" as she
broke free and dashed into the flaming house.
She knew just where to go. Running through the smoke and flames,
she seized her precious baby, then turned to make her way out.
But by now the smoke made it very hard to see and
breathe. Nearly overcome, she swayed and fell, and would not have
made it out of the house safely if a fireman had not picked her
up and carried her out.
What a cheer went up as they appeared! Baby Marjorie was not hurt
at all! But the poor mother's hands were terribly burned. Kind
friends took care of the baby while the ambulance took her to
the hospital. The doctors did their best, but her hands were terribly
scared.
Years later, when Marjorie had grown, she suddenly noticed something
she had not noticed before. Her mother's hands were so ugly! "Why
are your hands so ugly?" she asked her mother when they were
alone.
Tears filled her mother's eyes as she remembered how frightened
she was the day the house burned with Marjorie asleep and unaware
of the danger.
"Have I said something wrong?" Marjorie asked when she
saw the tears.
"No, my dear," replied her mother. "But there's
a story I need to tell you."
Then she told Marjorie the story of the fire. She told how the
people tried to hold her back, how the fireman tried to stop her,
how she battled the flames to rescue her, how she fell, and how
they were rescued. Then she held out her scared hands for Marjorie
to see.
"They are ugly, in a way, aren't they," Mother said
softly. "For me, the only thing that mattered was to save
your life."
Now it was Marjorie's turn to shed a few tears. "Oh, Mother,"
she cried, "You must love me so much! These are the most
beautiful hands in all the world!"
Do you know there are hands that were hurt for you? The hands
of Jesus.
Soldiers drove great nails through His hands and hung Him on a
cross to die so you could go to heaven. Even when He comes again,
the marks made by those nails will still be there. If you ask
Him, He will show them to you. When you see them, you will know
for sure how much Jesus loves you!
Adapted from Arthur S. Maxwell, Uncle Arthur's Bedtime
Stories. Hagerstown, MD: Review and Herald Publishing Assoc.,
1966. Vol. 13, pp. 9-13.
