One of the most exciting moments after our wedding was looking at the photographs from that special day.
I anticipated the various shots the wedding photographer would capture; however, there was one photo that caused a lump to get stuck in my throat.
David and I chose to incorporate the “Tying the Knot Ceremony” into our wedding celebration. This ceremony represented the two of us coming together as one. Prior to the ceremony, the minister asked Daddy to hold the cords and I did not know it until I saw our wedding photos. My heart swelled with emotions as I looked at my daddy’s hands.
As I looked at his hands, which were worn because of his age along with the trials of life, I reminisced on what my daddy’s hands meant to me throughout my life.
Daddy’s hands held mine as I learned to walk.
Daddy’s hands were folded in prayer every weekday during our lunch and supper as he gave thanks for the food we were about to receive, and at night as he knelt with each of his children and said bedtime prayers.
Those same hands turned the pages of the Bible as we sat down for breakfast every Sunday morning before we left for church.
Daddy’s hands lifted me so that I could choose our chocolate covered peanuts during our weekly visits to the candy counter. When I became “Daddy’s Big Girl”, I could still grasp his hands and feel safe.
Daddy’s hands, firm and strong, were what I reached for the first time I stood to sing a solo at church.
Daddy’s hands were stern and consistent when I disobeyed.
Daddy’s hands steadied me as he escorted me down the fifty yard line my senior year in high school as I was crowned Homecoming Queen.
Daddy’s hands packed, lifted, and hauled my belongings into my college dorm during my freshman year.
Daddy’s hands loaded the Penske truck and my Dodge charger and assisted me as I moved into my first apartment. Daddy’s hands grabbed the broom and swept my floors as we put the finishing touches on my new home away from home.
Daddy’s hands were there to catch me after I rebelled and walked contrary to the example that he had placed before me.
Daddy’s hands have always represented strength and authority to me. When I looked at his hands holding the cord, I saw so much more.
His hands were holding an important part of our ceremony—the untied cord, just as he had held me every time I had come undone.
Every time I was undone.
I have seen a lot of hands in my lifetime. There have been hands that have helped me, and hands that have hurt me. But there are no earthly hands that have impacted me like Daddy’s hands.
Today and every day, I celebrate his love and his life and I see more clearly the impact of his example. Daddy’s hands are an example of God’s love for me.
When I am afraid, nervous, alone I can find comfort in the hands of my father.
I love my daddy and I appreciate all of the sacrifices he made for my siblings and me. I applaud his love and dedication to my mom. I admire the tenacity of his faith. And I am forever grateful for his example of a true man of God. Daddy is connected to his Father and that relationship is evident in all that he says and does.
Daddy’s hands are strong because he is secure in our Father’s hands.