Hands – In Honor of my Dad

In loving memory of my dear Dad, gone for 2 and 1/2 long years now……

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Hands that held so many responsibilities, so many stories, so many memories.

Hands that were rough-hewn and callous and bloodied so that your family would be well cared for.

Hands that lifted many a weary troubled heart to their heavenly Father.

Hands that could be both strong and tender.

Hands that cradled that well-worn Bible lovingly every morning.

Hands that patted the heads of many little ones.

Hands that gripped a basketball or a baseball bat to play with your baby girl even though you were weary from a long day’s work.

Hands that covered mine when you were teaching me how to drive tractor when I could still barely reach the clutch.

Hands on my shoulder to say you got my back, and you’re there behind me all the way.

Hands that would playfully “chuck” our chins when we were little.

Hands that constantly moved when you were talking, shaping your story in the air.

Hands that were firm when we needed punishment.

Hands that guided mine when you were teaching me how to cast a fishing line.

Hands that were lined with care, creased with love, and gnarled with hard work.

Hands that showed me the way to the Father.

Dad, I miss seeing your strong, big-veined hands.  As a nursing student, I picture your big “lovely” veins criss-crossing your hands – they would have been perfect to practice inserting IV’s.  (Sorry dad!)  I miss those hands emphatically waving in the air as you made a point or showed us the story you were telling.  I miss seeing those hands holding your Bible every morning.  I miss the guiding presence of those hands.  Most of all I miss seeing those hands on the small of Mom’s back when you were walking together.  I really miss you in every moment of every ordinary day and especially on the special days of my life.  But Dad, I just want to thank you for being such an awesome Dad and for always showing us love with your hands even when you were punishing us for bad behavior.  Thank you for never harming us kids with your hands.  Thank you for never raising them in anger against us.  For you and your example of what it means to live for Jesus, I am forever grateful.  Because of your loving, guiding hands I am a strong, confident woman today and I have hope of one day grasping your hand in eternity as a “welcome home!”

 

 

The song Daddy’s Hands by The Judds

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzvN4qwqEIE

 

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