As we continue our newest work project, I am more and more amazed by how much a simple pair of hands (or two) can say.

These hands could tell you the sweetest of love stories…a story that has not only unfolded to its final chapter, but is dwindling to its last precious, fragile pages.

These hands could tell you about a talented pianist whose love for music and recollection of her craft is the only memory that can reach through the fog of age and faded faculties.

From a previous blog post, there is another pair of hands that tells the story of a woman’s satisfaction of a life lived very well.

And, of course, there’s this tiny pair of hands, also from a previous post. The story with a plot and conclusion that makes absolutely no sense to anyone left behind to ponder it. A story of miracles and heartbreak.

While there is some heaviness of heart that comes with viewing these stories together as a small collection (the last two stories have reached their conclusions since those posts were published), there is tremendous satisfaction as well. Memories were successfully preserved in spite of a tiny window for accomplishment. Families have visual reminders of their loved ones…a tangible means of sharing favorite stories. Does it get any better than that? Seriously, I have the best job.