I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about life and death and I have come to believe that it is in a way “a journey of hands.” Life begins at birth. You emerge into this world with the help of loving hands assisting you. The first few years you need your Mom and Dad’s hands to help you do just about everything. As you progress, your hands learn to tie a shoe, throw a ball, drive a car, and receive a diploma. Sometime in there hopefully you learn about the greatest gift of life ever when Jesus in all His love stretched out His hands and died to give us a way to Heaven. Believing that, you reach out and take His hand allowing Him to guide your life. Just as my Grandpa did.
In marriage, your family gives away your hand and you are joined with another. Then there’s the transition of having your own children where you use helping hands to teach them all what you were taught so many years before. You use your hands to make a living for your family and provide food for those you love. You give your own children away in marriage and begin helping your grandchildren in ways you held and helped your own. Towards the end of life your hands are feeble and you, once more, rely on the help and care of others. Then one day, death claims your life and you joyfully reach again for God’s hand as you enter eternity. Lives passed hand to hand.
I am thrilled to say that my life was deeply touched by my Grandpa’s hand. He taught me how to fish, throw a baseball, play Parcheesi and Crazy Eights. He and my Grandma Gigi would babysit me after school and feed me, care for me when I was hurt. He showed me Bible verses, baseball games, and was always ready to give out hugs. His hands comforted me and guided me. He was an amazing man. I am so thankful that I was able to use my hands to help him these last few weeks with feedings and holding his hand while praying and reading Scriptures. I am blessed and happy he is home where his hands are finally reunited with Gigi (as he’s longed for) and his Savior.
Love Rachel
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