It is said that the eyes are the gateway to our soul. And I would have agreed with that until about a month ago. Daddy was sick and in the hospital. He had become so weak from that stupid cancer, that he was not able to scoot up in the bed. When the nurses aides came in to help him, one of the ladies said "Look at his hands! He is a big strong man." I thought of all the places those hands have been. Tender enough to hold a newborn baby, yet strong enough to fight for our country. Soft enough to hold my Mom, yet strong enough to fight corruption and drug dealers. I watched Daddy rebuild old cars, take care of "the ugliest dog in the world" (Missy the wonder dog!), plant a garden, and cheer me on in whatever adventure I was embarking. On our way home from fishing all day (where he baited my hook EVERY time), we came up on a serious car accident. Daddy was one of the first people to reach the victims. Mom and I stayed in the truck. When the paramedics arrived, Daddy got back in the truck and said "That poor woman is gonna wake up and wonder why her mouth tastes like worm poop." Those hands that baited my hook had just saved a complete strangers life. His hands held mine at my wedding. He placed my hand in the hands of Sam. He held Jana Lee and Jori when they were just a few minutes old. He lived out his love for family, and by that example Sam is living it out in our family. I can't help but think of all that Jesus' hands did. The hands that were nailed to a cross for me and for Daddy. Because He did that, I know that one day my Daddy will hold my hand again. At the end of his life our roles changed. I held Daddy's hand and prayed over him. Those big, strong hands are resting with Jesus now. And I will forever be grateful that the last words he said to me were "I love you". I love you Daddy and I am looking forward to the day you take my hand and we walk the streets of Heaven.
