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Those Hands
(For my husband, Paul, a true blessing and answered prayer.)

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By: Angela Gillaspie © September 21, 1985-2008

hose hands of his softly held mine as he asked me to be his wife; blushing, I told him to get off his knees. On the day I became his wife, he pulled me close and nervously kissed me.

On the humid beach, he cupped his hands to my face and expressed his love to me. Looking into his chocolate brown eyes, I was eager to face my new life at his side. We walked hand-in-hand through the sand, breathing in the salty surf and watching the beautiful saffron sunset.

After the honeymoon, we paused at the entrance of our first apartment, and he swept me up in his arms and carried me over the threshold.

Those hands encircled my waist as we celebrated my graduation from college. After working through four years in three different colleges, he shared with me my dream of a college degree. During the drive home, he held my hand as we shared anecdotes from the ceremony.

Almost a year later, his hands trembled as he gently held his tiny newborn daughter for the first time. Each time I saw him holding our child, I was in awe how such strong hands could tenderly cuddle, caress, and love.

In the coming years those hands proudly held three sons up to the window where weeping grandparents stood on the other side. His hands became adept at diapering and burping; drooling babies gnawed on his fingers to soothe their inflamed gums.

Those hands clap loudly at soccer games and then hand out drinks and snacks to the team. Those hands throw fast balls and give high-fives. Those hands hike the football and shoot straight into the air in celebration of a touchdown. Those hands bait hooks and catch lightning bugs.

Those hands tickle ribs and wipe tears. They ruffle long sweaty hair and stroke crew cuts. They steadily pull out splinters. Those hands rescued me from an intimidating mouse.

Those hands hold smaller hands in prayer, and lovingly rub my stress away.

Those hands are callused and scarred from doing an honest day's work providing for the family.

I love those hands. They have touched my life, my soul, my very being. Those hands hold my heart.


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Copyright © 2000-2008 Angela Gillaspie
Revised: 09/24/00 - 06/20/08
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