Mt. Saint Caffiena: Psalms at the Well

Psalms at the Well is an offshoot of Mt. Saint Caffiena. I will be posting mainly Psalms and Proverbs here, with notations for quick reference. Expect nothing profound, and you just might find it.

My Photo
Name:
Location: Pennsylvania, United States

I'm a semi-retired deputy sheriff. I live on a former farm, with 10 acres dedicated to a flock of sadistic sheep and one draft horse. I share my home with my four youngest daughters, and the occasional field mouse. Okay, my brother bunks on the top floor, but we try to ignore him.
I don't give out legal advice, and I don't publish comments that are derogatory towards my family or colleagues.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Praying Hands

Psalm 100

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting



A psalm. For giving thanks.

1 Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

2 Worship the LORD with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.


3 Know that the LORD is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.


4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise;
give thanks to him and praise his name.


5 For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Very often, we turn to God in prayer when we want something. It seems that the more distress we are in, the more hearty the prayer. Why not take a moment to thank God for the good things? To thank him for a blessing or two? Our Heavenly Father is always there for us in times of need, but sharing times of joy with him can be a very uplifting thing.



The Story Behind the Picture of "The Praying Hands"

The Praying Hands


Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late."

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

~Source Unknown~

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

The prayers of the righteous availeth much. One thing I've learned in my life is there can't be too much prayer. God knows our needs, our wants and our pain and afflictions, but he wants to hear us pray and ask.....and on our knees. He hears and answers our prayers and always the right answers too. BiddyBabyKelly

Monday, May 22, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

There are times when the heartache is so great you feel your prayers are not being answered, that the Lord has forgotten you even though you continue to cry out to him. Of course he hasn't. He's always there, we just need to listen for the answers to our prayers which may be totally different than what we were expecting. One of the worst thing you can do is hurt a good friend even though at the time you thought you were doing the right thing...and then not be able to find the words to correct the situation. I always have to remember that with God, all things are possible. Biddy

Friday, October 27, 2006  

Post a Comment

<< Home