Daddy's Hands

Daddy's hands giving Mom cake

I can't remember this, but mom always told me that when I was a baby, my dad had just started his practice.  He would see patients all day, come home for dinner, give me my bath, and go back to work.  I wish I could remember his hands, playing with me in the bathtub.

Daddy's hands loving on Mom

When I was 4 yrs old, my mom would read and re-read Dr. Seuss books to me, teaching me how to sound out each word. I remember one night, when Daddy got home, I climbed up in his lap and read "Go Dogs Go" to him.  His hands turned each page for me as I read.

My dad was always one to take care of things right away.  If a chair broke or a light bulb burned out or yard work needed done, he didn't procrastinate doing what needed to be done.  I can picture his hands repairing and mending, fixing and working.

Daddy's hands teasing my son

Every morning before Dad went to work, he and Mom would pray together in the kitchen.  I can still see her hands in his as they prayed for us kids and any other loved ones who were on their hearts.  As his practice got established, he didn't have to go to work at night anymore.  He would come home and his first moments were off limits to us kids, as he would stand in the kitchen, kissing Mom, sharing a martini with her.  I can picture them talking together before we sat down to dinner, his hand holding that martini glass, his other hand tickling or teasing Mom.

One summer, he and I built a railroad tie and rock stairway up around a hill in our back yard.  I can see his strong hands lifting those ties and carrying them to their spot.  He would show me how to place the gravel and the pavers around each one.

Daddy giving my my bath

When one of us kids would misbehave, Dad would sit us down, take his Bible on his lap, and read to us the nature of our sin.  I see his hands holding that Bible, then motioning in the air as he explained why what we had done, was wrong and why we were receiving correction for it.

All through my life, when I think of my dad, I see his hands...Daddy's hands.  They prayed, they caressed, they worked, they built, they gave baths, they held sparklers, they disciplined, they fixed banged up knees, but most of all, they built a family.  My father wasn't much on talking about girl stuff or emotional things...men back then didn't do that. But he showed us, with his hands, that we were the most precious things in the world to him.

Daddy's hands holding me

This week, he came for a visit and I watched his hands, the whole time.  I watched as they held his first great grandson, as he hugged a grandson who was graduating from high school, as he lifted another grandson onto his lap and talked quietly with him.  I saw him get up early every morning for his coffee and his Bible reading.  I think about this family that he built with my mom.  They poured their hearts and their hands into us and I pray I am walking out each of my days, making them proud.  I hope that I have used my hands to give life and love to my children the way that he did for us.  One of my most treasure memories...Daddy's hands.


It's a wonderful thing to be able to look back over my childhood and remember all the love that my dad gave me.  Men didn't talk much in those days.  They gave their love with their hearts and their hands.  Now that my mom is gone, he talks more.  But I still love to watch his hands.  They make me feel sure and peace and loved.  I can never get enough of Daddy's hands!

Dad hugging his grandson

Dad holding his first great grandson

Daddy's hands holding the Bible

Daddy's hands, holding mine, to pray

There's always love in Daddy's hands!

What do you think of when you think about your father?

From His Lap,