He has a blister on his hand from hammering 45 fence boards in place. I catch him eyeing it now and then. His hands are beautiful and not meant for physical labor, yet they are so strong. His hands have held babies, played peek-a-boo with little children and his hands have comforted their mothers. His hands have softened the cover of his Bible over a lifetime of teaching from it. His hands have the power to heal broken hearts and seal loving marriages. His hands lift up high in praise and come together in humble prayer. His hands are his living history - one of honor and truth, strength and passion. These are the mighty hands I love to hold.
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