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.

Wedding Day

All your life you dream;
All your life you wait,
Until
One day
You fall in love.
Life begins afresh
With a wedding day.
Like a movie’s end,
A movie that 
Changes your heart,
With music
That sinks into your soul;
Music that insists 
You stay
Listening 
In the emptying theater
To hear the last 
Sweet note,
Before going out into 
The altered
Evening.
Life begins with the end of 
Waiting.

Tomato Bowl

How many fruits have filled this bowl? 
How many tomatoes? How many apples
Were peeled into it’s curves?
Golden honey-scented pears?
How many green beans were served
With new potatoes? Sliced sugary peaches?
Ears of yellow corn? Savory vegetable soup?
How many slices of cantaloupe? Blackberries?
I wonder whose bowl it was before it was mine?
Did she use it to mix a cake
Batter for her son’s seventh birthday?
Did she love it like I do?

Letter to a Rose Painter

Dear God,

I just want to say how much I admire your artwork. Everwhere I look, from children’s faces to the bark of trees, to wild animals like the giraffe to the sea shells washed on ocean shores, everywhere are wonderful beautiful things that you have designed. There are waterfalls crafted by your hand. There are sunsets too pretty to forget. There are flowers that delight with colors and such petals!
The birds, just the ones in my part of the world, are colorful and arresting. Their songs each original, their nests of certain grasses and rootlets. Then there are all the ones in other places that I have never seen. It amazes my heart. How wondrously you have made all things.

You knew how I would relish every bloom and every leaf. How I would love trees and rocks, shells and stones. You thought up the best colors yellows, reds, pinks, greens, purples and blues. The color of straw. The color of cornsilk, of bluebonnets, of pearl, of sky. Like love letters to us.
Thank you, Jesus for this swirl of silken rose, for this pink with tinge of yellow and wisp of white.
Love you,  
              Elece

Letter to a Rose Painter

Dear God,

I just want to say how much I admire your artwork. Everwhere I look, from children’s faces to the bark of trees, to wild animals like the giraffe to the sea shells washed on ocean shores, everywhere are wonderful beautiful things that you have designed. There are waterfalls crafted by your hand. There are sunsets too pretty to forget. There are flowers that delight with colors and such petals!
The birds, just the ones in my part of the world, are colorful and arresting. Their songs each original, their nests of certain grasses and rootlets. Then there are all the ones in other places that I have never seen. It amazes my heart. How wondrously you have made all things.

You knew how I would relish every bloom and every leaf. How I would love trees and rocks, shells and stones. You thought up the best colors yellows, reds, pinks, greens, purples and blues. The color of straw. The color of cornsilk, of bluebonnets, of pearl, of sky. Like love letters to us.
Thank you, Jesus for this swirl of silken rose, for this pink with tinge of yellow and wisp of white.
Love you,  
              Elece

Creekside Cottage, Joplin

This weekend we celebrated our thirty-seventh anniversary with a trip to Missouri. We stayed at the Creekside Cottages, a bed and breakfast recommended to us by my sister Rebecca.

 It was a rustic and comfortable and peaceful place to stay. We enjoyed the creek from a porch that ran along the back and one side of the cabin. Trees grew through the porch and shaded it. You could fish from the porch.

We enjoyed the hammock, but it was hot out in the sun and I noticed how precarious the hammock was on the edge of the embankment and with some healthy poison ivy down  below.

Acorn cups showed us that squirrels were busy feasting in the oak trees. Wind blew hickory nuts loose and they smacked the roof and rolled “snickety-snackety”down and landed with a “plunk” in the creek.

Creekside Cottage, Joplin

This weekend we celebrated our thirty-seventh anniversary with a trip to Missouri. We stayed at the Creekside Cottages, a bed and breakfast recommended to us by my sister Rebecca.

 It was a rustic and comfortable and peaceful place to stay. We enjoyed the creek from a porch that ran along the back and one side of the cabin. Trees grew through the porch and shaded it. You could fish from the porch.

We enjoyed the hammock, but it was hot out in the sun and I noticed how precarious the hammock was on the edge of the embankment and with some healthy poison ivy down  below.

Acorn cups showed us that squirrels were busy feasting in the oak trees. Wind blew hickory nuts loose and they smacked the roof and rolled “snickety-snackety”down and landed with a “plunk” in the creek.