Daddy’s Hands

Daddy’s hands –
A symbol of strength throughout my life
How I learned what a callous was
with its layers of toughened skin from labor
The inspiration for recalling tales from the day
because of the scratches brought about by
wrestling barbed wire,
transforming fallen trees into firewood,
convincing cattle to submit to the head gate,
loading boxes of explosives into the trailer,
or fictional stories involving mom and a frying pan

Daddy’s hands –
Wiping tears, steady and sure
when I couldn’t figure out how to navigate growing up
Picking me up and swinging me through the air
Tickling me against my will, making me laugh uncontrollably
Folded together on his chest as he takes a snooze
in his recliner at the end of a full day of work
Then folded in prayer long before dawn the next morning

Daddy’s hands –
Beginning to shake against his will
Less confident and capable of buttoning his shirt and tying his shoes
An outward sign of an inward battle with a disease
he’d rather not become a part of him,
Threatening to take over who he is,
Casting a fog over his brain, zapping him of energy
Yet he walks every day with sometimes slow,
always determined steps
While he wills he trembling hands to still,
and sometimes they listen –
Proving that no matter how much Mr. Parkinson may try to take over who he is,
Daddy will do what he always does with those he comes across in life,
He will kindly shake hands with him
and invite him to come along for the journey,
But not let him steal who God has created him to be.