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	<title>Dance of Gratitude &#187; hands</title>
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	<description>Self-exploration with a touch of spirituality</description>
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		<title>Dad&#8217;s hands</title>
		<link>http://danceofgratitude.com/dads-hands</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 06 Oct 2007 20:47:49 +0000</pubDate>
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		<category><![CDATA[hands]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[When I was small, I would sit next to my Dad in church and play with his rough, callused hands. I was young enough that I could get away with not paying attention to the service. I was in awe with how much bigger his hands were than mine, and I&#8217;d interlace our fingers just [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>When I was small, I would sit next to my Dad in church and play with his rough, callused hands. I was young enough that I could get away with not paying attention to the service.  I was  in awe with how much bigger his hands were than mine, and I&#8217;d interlace our fingers just for comparison.  I&#8217;d rub my fingers over the  thick areas of skin, and I only appreciated years later the work required in making those hands so rough. As an adult, I still love my Dad&#8217;s hands. Of course, retirement living and lots of lotion have made them much smoother.  They are still nice to hold, though.</p>
<blockquote><p>My father didn&#8217;t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.<cite>Clarence B. Kelland</cite></p></blockquote>
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