Several years ago, I was putting my hair up and caught a glimpse of something moving in the mirror. I let out a sigh and thought, “Oh no…” There they were, my grandma arms. Now, they’re not exactly new, but I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring them or covering them up. I remember promising myself in my youth that I would never let my arms become action figures on their own. And yet, there they were, swinging freely and unapologetically.
As I headed outside to work in the yard, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I felt a little sad, a little disappointed, wondering how I let that happen. But then, a gentle thought came to me, one that shifted everything.
There’s so much more to these grandma arms.
These arms have held precious grandbabies close. They’ve comforted my children in moments of need. They’ve folded laundry, pulled weeds, and served others quietly and faithfully. They’ve been folded in prayer to my loving Heavenly Father.
They’ve lifted burdens, cared for the sick, and given me the freedom to do so many things I’d miss if I didn’t have them. But most of all, they’ve wrapped around those I love in a hug.
And that is no small thing.
I used to think beauty was about appearance. But now I see, it’s about purpose. These arms may not look the way I once hoped they would, but they’ve become instruments of love, strength, and devotion. They tell a story. Not of decline, but of legacy.
So yes, I have grandma arms. And while they may swing a little more than I’d like, they carry the weight of love and service. They are a gift. And I’m grateful for arms!
Mosiah 2:17 “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
My arms have served faithfully and lovingly.
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