The Story My Hands Tell

My hands were made to be strong. They tell a story. They tell a story of who I am and what I have gone through.

I started lifting at the beginning of the summer and have grown to love it. Since then I have these hard spots starting to develop on my hands. Most people call them calluses. I tend to think of them as a positive thing whereas most people view them as something negative. A callus by definition is a thickened or hardened part of the skin especially in an area that has been subjected to friction. Friction is the action of one surface or object rubbing against another. My hands became tough as a result of the abrasion of the weights in my hands. But the calluses only started to form after my hands were rubbed raw. My calluses formed only after I had gone through the pain.

The same is true about life. I didn't find strength until I was at my weakest. I didn't find purpose until I thought I was worthless. I have not come through the first part of my life unscathed. I have many calluses to show and I wear them proudly. Each one tells a story of how life was painful and I was rubbed raw but how I ended up stronger as a result. They tell the story of who I am. I wouldn't be me without them. My hands are signs of victory. My hands speak of life, hope, purpose, inspiration, peace, joy... What do your hands tell you?