Bless the Hands
By Nancy Karpenske When my family gathers at the dinner table, it is common for the designated prayer person to pray, “Lord, thank you for the hands that prepared this meal.” Those would be my hands they are talking about. Sometimes fixing dinner has taken hours, chopping, mixing, stirring, grating. Occasionally my hands smell like the onion I chopped, or they are scratched from picking raspberries. But quite often my hands have merely pushed the buttons on the microwave or flipped the switch on the Crock-Pot in order to produce a satisfying meal. I like to cook and bake. But
