GRANDPA'S HANDS

Even though FATHERS DAY has past, I got this email this week and wanted to share it.

Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.
He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice. I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.

Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making Grandpa smiled and related this story:

Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my Mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.

"I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

Thanks Betty Jane for sharing.

TRAVELING

Since we have lived in OHIO for almost 8 yrs now, we have been on the road alot going back and forth to VA. One of the memorable trips was our first one after Christmas in '99 when we were in SLOOWW moving and detoured traffic on I-70 because of a tremendous snow storm. We had another incident in 2000. This past Thursday was the third...trificta...so to speak. We had just gone through the tolls just outside of Charleston when the traffic started to slow and then came to a stop. It was 82 degrees, and a tractor trailer overturned and dumped his steel load. We sat or walked the turnpike for 2 hours. I am so thankful that we had just stopped for our normal "pit" stop in Marmet, and got something to drink!! There were lots of people walking on the turnpike. We did not go to the wreck site, even though we were probably only 10-20 cars behind it. Being so close to the front we were there when the rescue vehicles and wrecker trucks drove on the shoulder and parked until they could clear the traffic. They had to bring other rescues vehicles up the down ramp in order to get to the wreck.

Needless to say, we were happy to get rolling again!!!

PAN/CAN TEAM HOPE

CONGRATS TO JACKIE AND HER TEAM!! SHE EXCEEDED HER GOAL!! THANKS TO ALL WHO CONTRIBUTED!!!!!!!!!

Many of you know we lost a dear friend, Dave Gordon, to pancreatic cancer in Dec.

On June 16, almost 6 months since Dave died, Jackie, Sarah and Dave's nephew Chris, will be running in TEAM HOPE 5K race in Cleveland, to help raise monies for a cure. If you would like to donate to Jackie's fund raising you can do so by going to www.pancan.org/clevelandrace , and click on donate to a participant, or on her name on the right. I know Jackie would appreciate it.