Simple Gifts
This summer, Bethany came with me alone one day to visit Grandpa. She helped me with communion and we sat out on the patio and enjoyed a summer day. I selfishly asked her to quick snap a picture of me holding my Dad's hand. Dad was never a photogenic person and at the time I honestly felt guilty and selfish asking her to take the picture. When I look at it now, I don't regret having her take it. Because looking at this photo reminds me of so much more than just my hands or Dad's hands. His hands wrote books and magazine articles and sermons. Those hands chopped wood and built fires. Those hands baptized my girls and my nieces and prayed and presided over milestones in other peoples' lives. Neither of us are perfect, these hands have accompanied a heart and mind and mouth that have said and done things we wish we hadn't. But, they are hands that have also done good and helped others and have shown love. I wanted a memory because I need the memory. I visit with