His Hands

“A good father will leave his imprint on his daughter
 for the rest of her life.”
James C. Dobson
  His Hands
By Elece Hollis

As we harvested the grapes for jelly-making
I took photos of his hands;
I wanted never to forget those hands,
How they looked in my mind’s eye.

The photos shocked me—rocked me
Never would I have thought those hands
Had already become strange, drifted
My daddy’s hands—into the shallows of my memory.

I think I only imagined I knew 
What his hands looked like—those hands.
What is it I do remember? 
It’s how those hands felt holding mine.

When I was small and frightened, those hands
Caught me, lead me, nurtured me.
Those are comforting memories,
Which cannot be captured in a photograph.

Fix your thoughts on what is true and good and right.
 Think about things that are pure and lovely, and dwell 
on the fine good things in others.
Philippians 4:8 TLB



Helen Steiner Rice wrote many poems about the love of family. 
In this book her beloved poems are paired with devotional thoughts written by Elece Hollis.

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