Your hands: the ones that look like cigars
Your hands: The ones that I can size my hand against your three fingers
Your hands are the hands that held me as a baby
The hands that bathed me as a child
The hands that taught me to walk
The hands that taught me how to swim, bike, and throw a football and turn the pages in my Bible… (You know to get the whole context). Those same hands are the only hands I want to hold.
Your body may be fighting to get back to normal but when I see your hands, I see my Dad.
I see your strength.
I see your courage.
I see your faithfulness.
When I look at your hands, I remember you using them as illustrations, presenting the Gospel.
When I look at your hands, I remember you helping others in need. Wrapping bandages on others, or holding other little people’s hands.
When I look at your hands I remember the sweet gestures you gave every morning as you greeted me. I remember the hugs and how your hands drew me close.
And now Dad, I know you’re in much better hands than even your own. God is holding us. He is teaching us as you taught me. He is the One drawing is close through His nail pierced hands.
Thank you for allowing your hand to grab my hand and to connect it to the Father.
Dad, you’ve always given what’s been in your hands, and you’ve taught me to do the same. I will forever be grateful for your hands.
#Dad #Hands #BestDadintheworld #HanginthereDad #Keepfighting #Notbypowerorbymightbutbyyourspirit