Strong Hands

Dad's hands threw me high in the air as a little
girl. His hands caught me tight on the way down.

His hands protected me, shielded me, and showed me discipline. He shaped my security in Christ in so many ways...just by being my godly daddy.


Mom's hands wiped my tears away when I was little. Her hands held me tight and hugged me close. Her hands rubbed lotion on me and painted my finger nails. Her hands walked me through Scripture when I began asking question at a young age. Her hands hemmed me in when I was tempted to walk in the wrong paths. Her hands pointed the way to Jesus!

Shep's hands I know by heart. I couldn't wait for the first time that he reached over to hold my own. I still remember holding his hands at the altar when we said our vows....I've been holding them ever since. His hands represent what He is to me. He is steady and strong. He covers me, guides me, encourages me, and loves me.

Thursday night I knelt on the floor at my parent's house as mom, dad, and Shep laid their hands on me and prayed for my upcoming mission trip. It was an event I will always cherish. Their prayers were so intimate and personal. They commissioned me and blessed me in Jesus' name to go into another nation and spread the gospel message of Jesus Christ!

There were no tears of sadness but tears of joy and anticipation. I got to witness three people who love me so much entrust me completely into the hands of the One who holds my future. It was trust in action.

2 Timothy 1:6 "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands."