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    When I think of Papa, I remember his hands. They were large, callused, strong and always ready to help anyone in need. Papa was a carpenter. After working all day in a piano factory, running huge machines that would drill holes in rails for pianos, he would go build a house, or panel a room, or put shelves up for someone who needed them. He would charge what people could afford, and if that was little too nothing, then that’s what papa would bring home (often much to mama’s disappointment). If he should pass a stalled car along the way, he always would stop and do whatever was necessary to fix that, too. If someone couldn’t get a well dug, papa would know just what to do. There wasn’t a handyman or carpentry problem he couldn’t solve. Papa was a quiet man, never having much to say about anything, but he was ever ready to offer himself, and the work of his hands, in service to others.

I noticed the hands...

    My brother, Gordy, is papa’s only son and so much like him! The last time I visited Gordy, he invited me downstairs to see his workshop. It smelled of sawdust, just like papa always did. That’s when I noticed, Gordy has papa’s hands! Not only can he make beautiful wood creations; his hands are expert at turning the wood on a lathe or gently sanding it to a smooth perfection. Most importantly, those hands will offer up their service to anyone who needs them. They can fix a car, do a repair for an elderly neighbor, mow a lawn, bait a hook, and pet a pup, just like papa! Yet those same, rough hands are always gentle enough to lovingly cradle a newborn baby.

    It was these tiny glimpses of humanity that had paved the way for me to see with clarity the hands of Jesus. When introduced to him through Scripture many years ago, I noticed the hands, a carpenter’s helpful hands. Those outstretched, blood-streaked hands were every-ready to embrace and serve, give and assist, touch and love. I readily accepted the work of Jesus’ hands because someone had shown me an example of loving hands of service. I could fully understand hands of unselfish giving and self-sacrifice service because I had seen them first in my papa’s hands. I thank God for papa’s hands!