What to say about my dad He lived. He loved. He was loved. For many years now, when I think of my dad, I think of his hands. In the 80s Holly Dunn's song Daddy's Hands easily became my favorite because it was if it was written about MY daddy's hands. They were big, tough, strong and weathered from years of hard work on the farm and working construction, but they were soft and kind when he'd pat my back when we hugged or when he was protecting me from danger. They sacrificed for us as he worked tirelessly to provide for his family. Dad's hands showed me how to pray and how to be respectful and gentle with all of God's creatures. The were a vast canvas as he held caterpillars, lightening bugs and butterflies, showing me all their delicate and unique features. I was in awe of how these enormous hands could handle something so fragile without damaging or destroying it. THIS was because of his heart. The unseen, but biggest, most defining part of him. As I say farewell to his earthly body, I will burn the image of these hands into my mind in hopes that the time I live on without his presence will be kind to my memory. I will remember his huge heart and how much he loved all of God's creatures. I will cling to the memories, and until we are reunited in Heaven, I will hold him tightly in MY heart. Matthew 1128 says, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Rest In Peace, Daddy. Your work is done. blue_heart