"The Praying Hands"

Salam semua, dua minggu yg lepas, time call keluarga kat rumah dan bercerita itu dan ini,,tiba-tiba adik saya yang bongsu yang masih bersekolah dan sekarang masih berada di tingkatan lima bercerita tentang kertas ujian bahasa inggerisnya,,dalam ujian tersebut ada satu soalan part summary atau dalam bahasa melayunya rumusan,,dan soalan itu meminta supaya para pelajarnya membuat summary tentang story di bawah ini...sampai sekarang ini saya sangat kagum dengan guru bahasa inggeris di sekolah tempat adik saya belajar, kerana boleh menyebabkan pelajar-pelajarnya mengalirkan air mata tatkala menjawab soalan ini..mungkin tersentuh dengan cerita ini kot,,sejurus selepas saya mendengar cerita dari adik saya,,terus saya ke laptop dan search tentang cerita ini dan ingin mengetahuinya dengan lebih lanjut lagi,,memang pertama kali baca cerita ini (lebih-lebih lagi website ini attach lagu yang sangat mendayu sesuai dengan jalan ceritanya, teramatla jadi feelingnya hehe),,,so, saya akur dan surrender sebabnya saya juga turut menangis, maybe feeling baca cerita ini,,tapi xdela teruk sangat ,,hahaha just one drop of tears.. so kepada anda semua, read this story...very touch of my heart..nak link website story ni,,sila klik di bawah.

The praying hands

"The praying hands" potraited by Albrecht Durer

The Praying Hands

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuernberg, 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 Dürer 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 Nuernberg 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 Dürer won the toss and went off to Nuernberg. 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 Dürer 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 Nuernberg 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 Nuernberg. 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."

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Dürer 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 The Praying Hands, 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~

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.