We leave our fingerprints wherever we go, and whatever we do, leaves its prints on us.

Have you ever looked at your father’s hands? If you haven’t, I strongly advise it. What you find may demand respect, rather than ask for it. The calluses, the scars, the wearing down that has taken place, it all tells a story. Maybe his job, maybe hard work in the service of others, from the military, to using his priesthood to heal the weak, who knows? You could.
I know it is no coincidence that the hands are such a key part to all we do, that they are so unique. Not one person has the same hands, the same fingerprints. Everyone uses their hands for different purposes. Its up to us whether that purpose is right or wrong. We leave our fingerprints wherever we go, and whatever we do leaves its prints on us.
The ULTIMATE example of this would be the Savior. Jesus Christ. His hands served as many people as he met, wiped away as many tears as he saw. His hands influenced even those outside those who knew him personally on this earth, all of us. If you don’t believe that Christ is our Savior, the point is still valid that all he did with his hands were selfless, and in service of others. And in the end, his hands showed as proof of his sacrifice for mankind, for you, for me. The marks on his hands symbolize pain that no human being could physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, go through by himself. More than any of us could tolerate.
As of right now, my hands are fairly scratch less, fairly “new”. I hope to change that through serving those around me, through achieving happiness for my future family, though hard work and perseverance. I hope to command respect with my hands one day, just like our fathers and mothers today.

"His Hands" by Kenneth Cope

His hands,

Tools of creation,

Stronger than nations,

Power without end

And yet through them we find out truest friend

His hands

Sermons of kindness

Healing men’s blindness

Halting years of pain

Children waiting to be held again

His hands would serve his whole life though

Showing man what hands might do

Giving, ever giving, endlessly

Each day was filled with selflessness

Ands ill not rest until I make up my hands what they could be

‘til these hands become like those from galilee

his hands

lifting a leper

warming a beggar

calling back the dead

breaking bread, five thousand fed

his hands

hushing contention

pointing to heaven

ever free of sin

then bidding man to follow him

His hands would serve his whole life though

Showing man what hands might do

Giving, ever giving, endlessly

Each day was filled with selflessness

Ands ill not rest until I make up my hands what they could be

‘til these hands become like those from galilee

His hands

Clasped in agony

As he lay pleading, bleeding in the garden

While just moments away

Other hands betray him

Out of greed, shameful greed

And then his hands

Are trembling

Straining to carry the beam that they’ve been led to

As he stumbles through the streets

Heading towards the hill on which he died

He would die

They take his hands, his mighty hands, those gentle hands

And then they pierce them, they pierce them

He lets them, because of love

From birth to death was selflessness

And clearly now I see him with his hands

Calling to me

And though I’m not yet as I would be

He has shown me how I could be

I will make my hands like those from Galilee