A few months ago I was eating lunch at my daddy’s house. I glanced over at his hands. What is wrong with his hands! Are they swollen? Those are not my daddy’s hands. As I ate, I worried that something was physically wrong with him.  Last July he was diagnosed with Alzheimers. But physically he was in good shape to be almost 79.

Then suddenly it hit me. Those hands are not the hands of the daddy I have known all my life.They were smooth and clean. My daddy has always been a worker. He was a mechanic at the Ford Motor Plant for 48 years. In his spare time, he had a huge garden and restored antique cars and trucks. A Jack-of-all-trades sums him up. If we needed anything, he usually did it himself. Whether it was new shingles on the roof, a burst water pipe, or a new set of brakes; he could do it. He also used his hands to serve others. In fact at 76, he was still climbing roofs and cleaning out gutters of several widowed woman at church. His hands even drove a widow to a colonoscopy appointment. He said, “I really didn’t want to, but I couldn’t tell her no; she didn’t have anybody else to take her.”

For years my daddy had black under his nails. His fingers and hands were cracked and calloused. It wasn’t that he was unclean; he scrubbed with LAVA soap before eating. But the years of physical labor couldn’t always be washed away. 

He is now unable to do all the things he could before. Sometimes the hands that held a wrench, drove a tractor, or rebuilt an entire car, can not fasten a simple button. I am sadly aware that someday his hands will cease to gasp at all. And at some point, he may not even remember I’m his Donnie-Boo.

Change

Over the last three years I have experienced a lot of change. During this time, while reading the Bible, the two words Lord (God) and hands appeared many times together. I recently Googled it and discovered they appear over 100 times.

Our heavenly Father will never let go, will never forget our name and will always be there. I am thankful for my earthly daddy’s hands I have had for all these years. His hands held the Children’s Bible from which he read a story each Saturday night. They removed his cap and placed it on his knee when he sat at the table to eat. His hands faithfully held my mama for over 44 years.

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But, my daddy’s hands have changed because as good as they are, he is only human. There is no greater comfort than Our Lord’s hands.

Psalm 73:23 “Nevertheless I am continually with you; you have taken hold of my right hand.”